The music for this podcast was generously provided by Dr. Stefan Hagel.
Cover illustration and voice of Ovid provided by Lu (twitter: @DRScomics, instagram: @dead_romans_society, tumblr: @ovidiana).
Foley sounds for soundscape provided by zapsplat.com.
Hosting, English sections, and editing provided by Margrethe.
Transcript:
Mar: Salve aveque. This is Margrethe from Ovid Daily, for our podcast special: “Evenings with Ovid”. Joining me today from the far-off shores of the Black Sea is the eminent Latin poet Publius Ovidius Naso, (given voice by the excellent Lu), here to read one of his most moving works: Tristia. Last week, we heard Carmina Quarta, which found you sea-tossed once more. And you certainly left us on a cliff-hanger, beset by waves and wind, and even the gods themselves. It was very exciting! Are you ready to share the next installment?
L/O: Ita. Aures praebete, quaeso, ne oblivia me obruant.
L/O:
O mihi post ullos numquam memorande sodales,
et cui praecipue sors mea visa sua est;
attonitum qui me, memini, carissime, primus
ausus es alloquio sustinuisse tuo,
qui mihi consilium vivendi mite dedisti,
cum foret in misero pectore mortis amor.
Scis bene, cui dicam, positis pro nomine signis,
officium nec te fallit, amice, tuum.
Haec mihi semper erunt imis infixa medullis,
perpetuusque animae debitor huius ero:
spiritus et vacuas prius hic tenuandus in auras
ibit, et in tepido deseret ossa rogo,
quam subeant animo meritorum oblivia nostro,
et longa pietas excidat ista die.
Di tibi sint faciles, et opis nullius egentem
fortunam praestent dissimilemque meae.
Si tamen haec navis vento ferretur amico,
ignoraretur forsitan ista fides.
Thesea Pirithous non tam sensisset amicum,
si non infernas vivus adisset aquas.
ut foret exemplum veri Phoceus amoris,
fecerunt furiae, tristis Oresta, tuae.
Si non Euryalus Rutulos cecidisset in hostes,
Hyrtacidae Nisi gloria nulla foret.
Scilicet ut flavum spectatur in ignibus aurum,
tempore sic duro est inspicienda fides.
Dum iuvat et vultu ridet Fortuna sereno,
indelibatas cuncta secuntur opes:
at simul intonuit, fugiunt, nec noscitur ulli,
agminibus comitum qui modo cinctus erat.
Atque haec, exemplis quondam collecta priorum,
nunc mihi sunt propriis cognita vera malis.
Vix duo tresve mihi de tot superestis amici:
cetera Fortunae, non mea turba fuit.
Quo magis, o pauci, rebus succurrite laesis,
et date naufragio litora tuta meo;
neve metu falso nimium trepidate, timentes
hac offendatur ne pietate deus.
Saepe fidem adversis etiam laudavit in armis,
inque suis amat hanc Caesar, in hoste probat.
Causa mea est melior, qui non contraria fovi
arma, sed hanc merui simplicitate fugam.
Invigiles igitur nostris pro casibus, oro
deminui siqua numinis ira potest.
Scire meos casus siquis desiderat omnes,
plus, quam quod fieri res sinit, ille petit.
Tot mala sum passus, quot in aethere sidera lucent
parvaque quot siccus corpora pulvis habet:
multaque credibili tulimus maiora ratamque,
quamuis acciderint, non habitura fidem.
Pars etiam quaedam mecum moriatur oportet,
meque velim possit dissimulante tegi.
Si vox infragilis, pectus mihi firmius aere,
pluraque cum linguis pluribus ora forent:
non tamen idcirco complecterer omnia verbis,
materia vires exsuperante meas.
Pro duce Neritio docti mala nostra poëtae
scribite: Neritio nam mala plura tuli.
Ille brevi spatio multis erravit in annis
inter Dulichias Iliacasque domos:
nos freta sideribus totis distantia mensos
sors tulit in Geticos Sarmaticosque sinus.
Ille habuit fidamque manum sociosque fideles:
me profugum comites deservere mei.
Ille suam laetus patriam victorque petebat:
a patria fugi victus et exul ego.
Nec mihi Dulichium domus est Ithaceve Samosve,
poena quibus non est grandis abesse locis:
sed quae de septem totum circumspicit orbem
montibus, inperii Roma deumque locus.
Illi corpus erat durum patiensque laborum
invalidae vires ingenuaeque mihi.
Ille erat assidue saevis agitatus in armis:
adsuetus studiis mollibus ipse fui.
Me deus oppressit, nullo mala nostra levante:
bellatrix illi diva ferebat opem.
Cumque minor Iove sit tumidis qui regnat in undis,
illum Neptuni, me Iovis ira premit.
Adde, quod illius pars maxima ficta laborum
ponitur in nostris fabula nulla malis
denique quaesitos tetigit tamen ille Penates,
quaeque diu petiit, contigit arva tamen:
at mihi perpetuo patria tellure carendum est,
ni fuerit laesi mollior ira dei.
Mar: Gratias tibi ago, Ovidi. I have here the English translation of our guest’s poem, originally translated by A.L. Wheeler in 1924.
“You who shall never be named after any of my comrades, you who above all made my lot your own, who were the first, dearest one, I remember, to dare to support me with words of comfort after the bolt had struck, who gave me the gentle counsel to live when my wretched breast was filled with the love of death, you know well to whom I am speaking by means of these symbols substituted for your name, nor are you unaware, my friend, of your own service. These things shall ever remain fixed in my inmost heart and I will be an everlasting debtor for this life of mine, my spirit shall be dispersed in the empty air leaving my bones on the warm pyre ere forgetfulness of your deserving steals into my heart and that loyalty of yours falls away from it through length of time. May the gods be gracious to you; to you may the gods grant a lot that craves the aid of no one, a lot unlike mine.
“And yet if this bark of mine were being borne on by a friendly breeze, perchance that loyalty of yours would be unknown. Theseus’ friendship would not have been so keenly felt by Pirithous if he had not gone while still alive to the waters below. That the Phocean was a model of sincere love was due to thy madness, gloomy Orestes. If Euryalus had not fallen in with the Rutulian foe, Hyrtacian Nisus would have had no renown. ‘Tis clear that as tawny gold is tested in the flames so loyalty must be proved in times of stress. While Fortune aids us and a smile is upon her calm face, all things follow our unimpaired resources. But at the first rumble of the thunder they flee, and nobody recognizes him who but now was encircled with troops of comrades. This, which once I inferred from the examples of former men, now I know to be true from my own woes. Scarce two or three of you, my friends, once so many, remain to me; the rest were Fortune's following, not mine. And so, few though ye are, run all the more to aid my injured state and provide a secure shore for my shipwreck. Tremble not over much with false fear lest this loyalty give offence to our god. Ofttimes faith even among his enemies in arms has been praised by Caesar; when it exists among his own, he loves it; in an enemy he approves it. My case is still more favourable since I did not nurse strife against him, but earned this exile by my simplicity. Do you, then, watch on behalf of my fortunes, I beg of you, if in any way the wrath of the deity can be lessened.
“If anyone desired to know all my fortunes he seeks more than the circumstances permit. I have endured woes as many as the stars that shine in heaven, or the grains that the dry dust holds; many have I borne too great to be believed and not destined to find credence, although they have really befallen me. A part, too, might well perish with me, and I wish that, since I would veil them, they might be hidden. If I have a tireless voice, lungs stronger than brass, and many mouths with many tongues, not even so could I embrace them all in words, for the theme surpasses my strength. Ye learned poets, write of my evils instead of the Neritian hero’s! for I have borne more than the Neritian. He wandered over but a narrow space in many years—between the homes of Dulichium and Ilium; I, after traversing seas whole constellations apart, have been carried by fate to the bays of the Get and Sarmatians. He had a faithful band of true companions; I in my flight have been abandoned by my comrades. He was seeking his native land in joy and victory; I have fled mine, vanquished and an exile. My home is to Dulichium or Ithaca or Samos, places from which absence is no great punishment, but Rome, that gazes about from her seven hills upon the whole world,—Rome, the place of empire and the gods. He had a frame sturdy and enduring of toil; I have but the frail strength of one gently nurtured. He had been constantly engaged in fierce warfare; I have been used to softer pursuits, I was crushed by a god and nobody lightened my sorrows; to him the goddess l of war brought aid. And though the king of the swelling waves is inferior to Jove, he was oppressed by Neptune’s wrath, I by that of Jove. Moreover, the largest part of his labours is fiction; in my woes no myth resides. And finally he reached the home of his quest, attaining the fields he long had sought. But I must be forever deprived of my native land, unless the wrath of the injured god be softened.”
Mar: Thank you so much for listening, and be sure to tune into Ovid Daily’s “Evenings with Ovid” next week for the next installment of Ovid’s Tristia. Vale beneque placideque quiescas!
Mar: A transcript for this podcast is available at oviddaily.substack.com. Our text comes from the 1924 Loeb Classical Library edition of the Tristia, edited and translated by A.L. Wheeler. Our music is performed by Dr. Stefan Hagel on the Hellenistic Aulos, a link to which is available in the description, and on our website on our “Resources” page. Foley sounds for our soundscape are provided by zapsplat.com. Our lovely cover art was illustrated by Lu, and you can see more of Lu’s art on Twitter @DRScomic, or on Tumblr @ovidiana. If you wish to contact Ovid Daily, you may email me at oviddaily@substack.com.
Tristia 1.5