Turbato Flumine

This is one of the emblems of Joachim Camerarius, 4.45.

Turbato Flumine
Turbato anguillae capiuntur flumine; sic res
Turbare in patria seditiosus amat.

The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are only two words in this poem that are not on the DCC list:

anguilla (anguillae, f.): eel
sēditiōsus, -a, -um: turbulent, rebellious

amō -āre: to love; amans -ntis m./f.: lover
capiō capere cēpī captum: seize
flūmen -inis n.: stream, river
in: in, on (+ abl.); into, onto (+ acc)
patria -ae f.: fatherland, country
rēs reī f.: thing (rēs pūblica, commonwealth; rēs familiāris, family property, estate; rēs mīlitāris, art of war; rēs novae, revolution)
sīc: in this manner, thus; sīc . . . ut: in the same way as
turbō -āre: disturb, confuse

Prodest Amor et Obest

This is one of the emblems of Joachim Camerarius, 3.76. The emblem shows the starling (Latin sturnus) eating the cicuta plant, hemlock, which is poisonous to humans, but which is food for the starling.

Prodest Amor et Obest
Est uni iucundus amor, nocet alteri amasse;
Quodque uni prodest, alteri obesse potest.


The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are only two words in this poem that are not on the DCC list:

iūcundus, -a, -um: pleasant agreeable
obsum, obesse: be an obstacle, hinder, hurt

alter altera alterum: other of two
amō -āre: to love; amans -ntis m./f.: lover
amor -ōris m.: love
noceō nocēre nocuī: harm
possum posse potuī: be able
prōsum -desse -fuī: be of use, do good, help (+ dat.)
qui quae quod: who, which, what / quis quid: who? what? which?
sum, esse, fuī: be, exist
ūnus -a -um: one

Mergitur, Non Obruitur

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498     -     499     -     500

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This is one of the emblems of Joachim Camerarius, 3.56. The emblematic image shows a bird, the so-called mergus in Latin, a "diver" bird, whose resilience we can all emulate.

Mergitur, Non Obruitur
Non raro mediis vir fortis mergitur undis
Adversae sortis, nec tamen obruitur.


The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are only two words in this poem that are not on the DCC list:

mergo, mergere: sink, plunge, immerse
obruo, obruere: overwhelm, crush, ruin

adversus -a -um: facing, opposed; unfavorable; adversus (-um): (adv. and prep.) facing, opposite, against, opposed (to)
fortis -e: brave
medius -a -um: middle, central
neque nec: and not, nor; neque . . . neque, neither . . . nor
nōn: not
rarus -a -um: wide apart, loose, thin; rare, seldom
sors sortis f.: lot, fate, destiny; oracle
tamen: nevertheless, still
unda -ae f.: wave, flowing water, water
vir virī m.: man

Similis Sui

This is one of the emblems of Joachim Camerarius, 2.90. The poem urges us not to be like the ever-changing chameleon that we see in the emblematic image!

Similis Sui
Turpis adulator formas se vertit in omnes,
At verax similis mens manet usque sui.


The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are only two words in this poem that are not on the DCC list:

adūlātor (adūlātōris, m.): flatterer
vērax (vērācis): true, truthful

at: but, but yet
fōrma -ae f.: shape; beauty
in: in, on (+ abl.); into, onto (+ acc)
maneō manēre mānsī mānsum: remain
mēns mentis f.: mind
omnis -e: all, every, as a whole
similis -e: like, similar
sui, sibi, sē: him- her- itself
turpis -e: ugly, unsightly; disgraceful
ūsque: up to; continuously
vertō vertere vertī versum: turn

Res In Se Recurrentes

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134     -     135     -     136

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Res In Se Recurrentes
Rebus in humanis adeo in se cuncta recurrunt,
   Finis ut unius sit caput alterius.

Source: Joachim Camerarius (1534-1598), Symbola, 4.83. Meter: Elegiac. Camerarius is using the ouroboros to express the cycle of ending and beginning.

In human affairs, (in humanis rebus) all things (cuncta) revolve into one another (recurrunt in se) such that (adeo us) the tail-end of one thing (finis unius) is the head-start of another (sit caput alterius).


The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There is only one word in this poem that is not on the DCC list:

recurrō, recurrere: run back, return, recur

adeō: (adv.) to such a degree, so
alter altera alterum: other of two
caput capitis n.: head
cūnctus -a -um: entire all together
fīnis -is m.: end, boundary
hūmānus -a -um: human
in: in, on (+ abl.); into, onto (+ acc)
rēs reī f.: thing (rēs pūblica, commonwealth; rēs familiāris, family property, estate; rēs mīlitāris, art of war; rēs novae, revolution)
sui, sibi, sē: him- her- itself
sum, esse, fuī: be, exist
ūnus -a -um: one
ut, uti: as (+ indic.); so that, with the result that (+ subj.)

(image source)

Latin Without Latin: Terror et Error

This is my forty-second "Latin without Latin" essay. For background and a link to other essays, see this page: About the English Essays. I thought I would follow up the Roman poem from yesterday (about the ritual sacrifice in the temple of Jupiter Feretrius) with a Camerarius emblem that is inspired by an incident from Roman history.

The story takes place during the Second Punic War, when the Carthaginian general Hannibal had invaded Italy by crossing the Alps and was raiding the Italian countryside. At one point, the Roman general Fabius had very cleverly entrapped Hannibal, surrounding him on all sides. Not to be outdone, Hannibal invented an ingenious trick of his own: he attached twigs to the horns of the cattle and then set fire to the sticks at nightfall. When the fire burned their horns, the cattle ran wildly and the Romans, seeing all the fires moving around like torches in the dark of night, became convinced that they were surrounded by innumerable enemy forces. The Romans became even more afraid when the cattle drew closer, taking them to be supernatural fire-breathing beasts. In the confusion and panic, Hannibal and his army easily made their escape. (You can read the details in Livy's History.)

Here is Camerarius' little poem as inspired by Hannibal's exploit. The title of the poem is Terror et Error.

Terror. This Latin word means fear, terror.

et. This Latin word means and.

Error. This Latin word means mistake, error.

That title is about as easy as it gets when reading Latin without Latin! Now here is the poem:

Fraudem fraude, astum non fállere dédecet astu,
Saepe timóre timor trúditur, arte dolus.

And here is how it works:

Fraudem. This is from the Latin noun fraus, which means a trick, a deception (compare the English word fraud). The form fraudem is accusative, so we have the object of our verb.

fraude. Here we have fraus again, this time in the ablative case: fraude, by means of a deception. We are still waiting for the verb, though!

astum. This is from the Latin noun astus, meaning a trick, some act of cunning (compare the English word astute). The form astum is accusative, so it looks like we are going to have two statements - one with fraudem as the object of the verb, and one with astum, but we don't have a verb yet to help put all that together.

non fállere dédecet. At last, our verb: dédecet is an impersonal verb in Latin meaning it is unsuitable, indecent (the -dec- root is what you see in the English words decent, decency, etc.). The word non negates the verb: non dédecet, it is not unseemly, it is not wrong. The verb fallere, to deceive, to cheat (compare the English word fallacy), gives us the infinitive complement we need: non fállere dédecet, it is not wrong to cheat,. Plus, we already have an object for the infinitive: fraudem. So, that gives us a complete statement: fraudem fraude non fállere dédecet, it is not wrong to cheat one deception by means of a deception (compare the English saying "fight fire with fire"). Now we just need to know what to do with that other object, astum.

astu. The final word of the line is just what we need: astu is the ablative form of astus, just as fraude is the ablative form of fraus. So, just as fraudem fraude non fállere dédecet, it is also true that astum non fállere dédecet astu, it is not wrong to cheat one trick with another.

That gives us the first line, with two interwoven, parallel statements: there is no shame, non dédecet, in thwarting one deception with another, fraudem fraude fállere, or one trick with another, astum astu. The second line expands on this same idea, bringing in the theme of terror that was mentioned in the title:

Saepe. This Latin word means often.

timóre. This is from the Latin noun timor, meaning fear (compare the English word timorous). The form is ablative: timóre, by means of fear.

timor. Here we have the nominative form of timor, which means it will be the subject of the verb.

trúditur. This is from the Latin verb trudo, meaning to dislodge, shove, push (compare the English compounds intrude, extrude, etc.). The form is third-person singular passive: trúditur, is pushed, is disloged. So, fear is dislodged by fear: timóre timor trúditur.

arte. This is from the Latin noun ars, meaning art, skill, craft, craftiness. The form is ablative again: arte, by means of skill, by means of craftiness.

dolus. This Latin noun means cunning, deceit, some kind of evil trap. The form dolus is nominative, so it is the subject of the verb: an evil trap, dolus, is disloged by means of craftiness, trúditur arte.

So, if you are afraid, you can often drive out that fear by causing fear, saepe timóre timor trúditur, and likewise dislodge some evil trap by means of your own craftiness, trúditur arte dolus. Although Hannibal is not invoked by name in the poem, the illustration makes it clear that he is the exemplary model here: instead of succumbing to panic when trapped by the Romans, he unleashed both terror and error among their ranks with his own ingenious scheme! A good idea to keep in mind if you find yourself in a trap, real or metaphorical.

Terror et Error
Fraudem fraude, astum non fállere dédecet astu,
Saepe timóre timor trúditur, arte dolus.

For more of Camerarius's poems in Latin, you can visit the Camerarius stream in my Latin distichs blog. Here is a link to the blog post for this specific poem. As I add new English essays, you will be able to find those in the English stream at the blog.

Taciturnior

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 3.71. The emblem shows a thrush, who was proverbial for keeping quiet.

Taciturnior
O decus eximium mentis sapientis, et apto
Nosse tacere suo et tempore nosse loqui.


The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are only two words in this poem that are not on the DCC list:

eximius -a -um - select, uncommon, excellent
taciturnus -a -um - not talkative, silent, noiseless

aptus -a -um: fit, suitable
decus decoris n.: beauty, grace; ornament, glory, honor
et: and
loquor loquī locūtus sum: speak, talk
mēns mentis f.: mind
nōscō nōscere nōvī nōtum: learn, know
sapientia -ae f.: wisdom
suus -a -um: his own, her own, its own
taceō -ēre -uī -itum: be silent; tacitus -a -um, silent
tempus -oris n.: time

Latin Without Latin: Iram Prudentia Vincit

This is my thirty-first "Latin without Latin" essay. For background and a link to other essays, see this page: About the English Essays. Since I so much enjoyed doing the Camerarius emblem yesterday, I thought I would do another one today in which, once again, Camerarius draws a moral lesson from a natural history legend. This time he reports the belief that a lion can be subdued by covered up its eyes so that it cannot see. Regardless of whether or not this is true (I've never had anything to do with a lion, but it does not work very well with my cat, for whatever that is worth), it is a legend in the natural history tradition and Camerarius then poses that as a challenge to those of us who need to learn how to keep our own anger under control. Here is the emblem illustration:

The title of the poem is: Iram Prudéntia Vincit.

Iram. This is from the Latin noun ira, meaning anger, wrath (compare the English words ire and irate). The form is accusative, giving us the object of a verb - but we need our verb, and a subject, too.

Prudéntia. This is the Latin word that means foresight, knowledge, wisdom; it is in the nominative form, giving us the subject of the verb. Now we just need the verb!

Vincit. This is from the Latin verb vincere, meaning to defeat, conquer (compare the English word invincible, something that cannot be conquered). The form is third-person singular: vincit, which fits prudéntia, our subject: iram prudéntia vincit, wisdom overcomes anger.

Wouldn't it be great if wisdom were always able to overcome anger? That is the challenge Camerarius presents to us in the form of a rhetorical question in the body of the poem itself.

Here is the poem:

Si licet obiécto ságulo tractáre leónem,
Quid tandem est iram nolle domáre suam?

Si. This little Latin word means if.

licet. This Latin verb means it is permitted, it is allowed (this verb is the origin of the English word license). It takes an infinitive complement - it is permitted to do something - so we will need to be on the lookout for an infinitive.

obiécto. This is from the Latin verb obiícere, meaning to throw towards, present, put over (compare the English word object). The form is the passive participle, thrown over, and the form could be masculine or neuter; we have to keep reading to find out which it is.

ságulo. This is from the Latin noun ságulum, which is a small cloak. This goes nicely with our adjective, obiécto ságulo, in an ablative noun phrase: by means of a cloak that is thrown, with a cloak that has been thrown over. But we are still looking for an infinitive to express the verbal action.

tractáre. This is the Latin verb that means to drag along, to take in handle, to handle (compare the English words treatment, treatise, etc.). So, we have the infinitive we were waiting for: si licet tractáre, if it is possible to manage treat … what? Our infinitive now needs an object.


leónem. This is from the Latin noun leo, meaning lion (compare the English word leonine). It is in the accusative case, giving us the object: si licet tractáre leónem, if it is possible to manage a lion… and just how is that possible? That's where our noun phrase comes in: obiécto ságulo, by means of a cloak thrown over him.

So, the first line of the couplet presents a hypothetical condition, asserting that you can tame a lion simply by putting a cloak over his eyes, just as you can see in the emblematic illustration:

Si licet obiécto ságulo tractáre leónem…

Now we will see how the second line turns this hypothetical statement into a rhetorical question:

Quid tandem est. This is a Latin idiom that means something like "what on earth?" or "why in the world?" The word quid means what, while tandem means at last, in the end (here referring to the ends of the earth), while est, from the Latin verb esse, to be, means is. These words set up a strongly worded rhetorical question - a question that is actually making a statement of its own, not looking for an answer.

iram. Here is the word ira that we saw in the title, again in the accusative case. We need a verb to go with this object.

nolle. This is the Latin verb that means refuse, not want to (it is a contraction: non+velle, to not want). This verb needs an infinitive complement: to refuse to do what? So now we are looking for an infinitive.

domáre. This is the Latin verb that means to tame (compare the English words domesticate or dominate). Put it all together and we have a complete verb phrase: iram nolle domáre, to refuse to tame the anger. But whose anger? That's what the last word of the poem will tell us.

suam. This is the reflexive possessive adjective meaning one's own - iram nolle domáre suam, to refuse to tame one's own anger.

So, that gives us our rhetorical question: if it's possible to tame a lion just by putting a cloak over his eyes, Quid tandem est iram nolle domáre suam? - What on earth is going on when people refuse to tame their own anger? What's up with that, eh? The poet is thus using the story of the easily tamed lion to shame us into mastering our own anger:

Si licet obiécto ságulo tractáre leónem,
Quid tandem est iram nolle domáre suam?

Of course, just as it is probably not so easy to tame an actual lion, we all know that it is also not so easy to get control of our own anger… even when we know we should!

For more of Camerarius's poems in Latin, you can visit the Camerarius stream in my Latin distichs blog; there is already a blog post for this specific poem. As I add new English essays, you will be able to find those in the English stream at the blog. The next essay also features a lion: Omnia Vincit Amor.

Latin Without Latin: Fallit Imago Sui

This is my thirtieth "Latin without Latin" essay. For background and a link to other essays, see this page: About the English Essays. Today I wanted to include a poem that is connected to the "bestiary" tradition, a wide-ranging collection of animal legends that were famous through the ancient and medieval worlds, and which continued to be well known in the Renaissance as well. Much like the urban legends of today, the bestiary stories were mostly false, but with some true stories mixed in as well. You can get a wonderful sense of the bestiary tradition from the Medieval Bestiary website, which also contains a lavish collection of illustrations.

The distich for today, which I found in the animal emblems of Joachim Camerarius (1534-1598), is based on a famous bestiary legend about the tiger. The story is about a sneaky trick that hunters would use in order to capture baby tigers. After the hunter snatched the baby tiger, he would ride away on his horse, with the mother tiger in fast pursuit, of course. To fool the tiger, the hunter would throw a round glass ball into the path of the tiger. The tiger, seeing herself reflected in the glass ball, would mistake the small image as being one of her cubs. She would then stop and fondle the glass ball, allowing the hunter to get away.

This legend about the tiger (patently absurd, but widely repeated for hundreds of years) allows Camerarius to make a general observation about human behavior and our tendency to self-deception, as you can see already in the title of the poem: Fallit Imágo Sui.

Fallit. This is from the Latin verb fallere, to fool, deceive, trick (compare the English words fallible and fallacy). The form is third-person singular: fallit, something tricks, something is deceptive.

Imágo. This is from the Latin noun imago, meaning image, likeness, representation. The form is nominative, giving us the subject of the verb: fallit imágo, the image fools, the image deceives.

Sui. This is from the Latin reflexive pronoun which means himself, herself, itself, yourself, etc. (the specific reference depends on context). The form is genitive singular, so imágo sui means one's own image, your own image, anybody's own image. Put the title all together and you have fallit imago sui, you are fooled by your own image. That is indeed what is going to happen to our poor tiger, as you will see in the poem!

Ambígua splendens nos fallit imágine forma,
Fállitur ut vítreo tigris acérba globo.

Here is how it works:

Ambígua. This is from the Latin adjective ambiguus (compare the English word ambiguous) which means, literally, going both ways (compare the prefix ambi- in the English words ambivalent and ambidextrous). The form here could be feminine singular or neuter plural; we will have to read on to find out more.

splendens. This Latin adjective means shining, splendid, brilliant. The form could be masculine or feminine or neuter, so we need to keep reading to find out just what to do with this adjective also.

nos fallit. This gives us our verb phrase: nos is the Latin first-person plural pronoun, meaning us, and we saw fallit already in the title, from the verb fallere, third-person singular: nos fallit, something fools us, something deceives us. Now we just need a noun to be our subject, along with another noun to go with the other adjective.

imágine. We saw the noun imágo already in the title. The form imágine is ablative, so it means by means of an image: something fools us, nos fallit, by means of an image, imágine. We can also include one of our earlier adjectives here: ambígua can be feminine ablative, so that gives us an ablative noun phrase: ambígua imágine, an ambiguous image, one that is both real and not-real.

forma. This is the Latin word that means form, figure, shape, appearance. It is feminine singular, and agrees with the adjective splendens, giving us splendens forma, a brilliant shape, a splendid appearance. This is the subject of our verb, splendens forma, a shining appearance, that fools us, nos fallit, with its ambiguous representation, ambígua imágine.

Meanwhile, notice how elegantly the two noun phrases are interwoven into the line: Ambígua splendens nos fallit imágine forma. This kind of word order is simply not possible in English but it comes very naturally in Latin.

So, the poem opens with a general statement about how appearances, attractive appearances in particular, splendens forma, can deceive us, nos fallit, with an ambiguous image, ambígua imágine, a representation that is both real and illusory. The second line will explain how the story of the tiger demonstrates precisely this problem:

Fállitur. This is from the verb we saw earlier, now in the passive form: fállitur, someone is fooled, someone is deceived. We need to read on to find out more.

ut. This tiny Latin word is used to introduce a comparison or simile - the first line is about something that fools us, fallit nos, just as, ut, somebody else is fooled: fállitur. We need to keep reading to find the subject of the verb.

vítreo. This is from the Latin adjective vítreus, meaning something that is made of glass (as in the English word vitreous). The form is masculine or neuter, dative or ablative; we will need to keep reading to find out how it fits in.

tigris. This is the Latin word for tiger, and it is in the nominative form, giving us the subject of the verb: fállitur ut tigris, we are fooled just as the tiger is fooled.

acérba. This is from the Latin adjective acerbus, meaning harsh, bitter, sad. The form is feminine, agreeing with the tiger: tigris acérba, the bitter tiger. Of course, if the tiger knows her cub has been stolen, she is bound to be bitter about that!

globo. This is from the Latin noun globus, meaning a ball, sphere, globe. The form is ablative, and it agrees with the adjective vítreo which we saw earlier: vítreo globo, by means of the glass ball: the tiger is fooled by the glass ball, vítreo globo.

So, that gives us the comparison to the tiger and her sad story. We are fooled by a shining and splendid appearance just as the sad tiger is fooled, fállitur ut tigris acérba, by the ball of glass, vítreo globo, in which she sees her own reflection. Now you can put the two lines together:

Ambígua splendens nos fallit imágine forma,
Fállitur ut vítreo tigris acérba globo.

I really like the way this provides a new twist on the legend of Narcissus. Just like Narcissus, the tiger is indeed fooled by her own image - but not out of self-love at all; instead, it is her mother's love that is her doom, as she is fooled by her own image in the mirror.

You can see the tiger looking at herself in the glass ball below, which is the emblematic image that accompanies Camerarius' poem:

Here is another depiction of the story of the tiger, this time showing the human hunter (more information here):

For more of Camerarius's poems in Latin, you can visit the Camerarius stream in my Latin distichs blog. As I add new English essays, you will be able to find those in the English stream at the blog. The next essay is about a lion: Iram Prudentia Vincit.

Latin Without Latin: Phoenix

This is my twentieth "Latin without Latin" essay. For background and a link to other essays, see this page: About the English Essays. This little poem comes from a collection of nature emblems by Joachim Camerarius (1534-1598). Camerarius published four of these books of nature emblems, with one hundred emblems in each book. Each emblem consists of a title (often in the form of a motto or proverb), an image, a two-line poem, and a one-page essay. This particular emblem comes from the book devoted to bird emblems. It is about the phoenix, the legendary "firebird," as you can see in the emblem illustration:

According to an ancient legend known to both the Greeks and the Romans, the phoenix, at the end of its life, would build its own funeral pyre, throw itself into the flames, and be reborn again in the fire. You can read more about the phoenix legend as found in both classical and medieval authors at the Medieval Bestiary website.

Here is the poem that Camerarius pairs with the phoenix emblem:

Vita Mihi Mors Est
Ex se ipsa nascens, ex se reparábilis ales,
quae exóriens móritur, quae móriens óritur.

Let's start with the title which expresses in very simple terms the paradoxical nature of the phoenix's life and death: Vita Mihi Mors Est.

Vita. This is the Latin word for life (compare the English word vital).

Mihi. This is from the Latin word ego, the first-person singular pronoun: I. The form mihi is dative, meaning for me or to me. So, vita mihi, life for me (the phoenix) is… what?

Mors Est. Here was have the Latin word for death, mors (compare the English word mortal), with the third-person singular verb est, is.

So, Vita Mihi Mors Est, for me (says the phoenix), life is death. The poem explores the paradox in greater detail:

Ex se ipsa. The Latin preposition ex means out or from (compare the English word exit). The pronoun se is a reflexive pronoun that refers back to the subject, and the intensifying word ipsa lets us know the gender is feminine and the number is singular: ex se ipsa, from her own self, from her very self.

nascens. This is from the Latin verb nasci, meaning to be born (compare the English words nascent and renaissance). The form is a present active participle, being born, so we have our first complete phrase: the phoenix is ex se ipsa nascens, born from her very own self, giving birth to her own self.

ex se reparábilis ales. This second phrase restates the same idea again: out of herself, ex se, the phoenix is a bird, Latin ales, who is reparábilis, reparable, a bird able to restore herself out of herself, ex se reparábilis ales.

quae. This from is the Latin relative pronoun, qui. The form is feminine nominative singular, linking the first and second lines: the phoenix is a bird who, ales quae… We have to read on to find out more.

exóriens. This is another present active participle, like nascens, and it means something similar - exóriens means rising up or rising out (compare the English word orient, which means the east, the direction of the sunrise). So, the phoenix is a bird who, as she is rising up… does what? We need to keep reading for the verb.

móritur. This is from the Latin verb mori, meaning to die (compare the Latin noun mors which we saw in the title, death). So, the phoenix is a bird who as she rise up into existence, quae exóriens, is already dying, móritur.

quae móriens. Now we get another relative clause, and this time the dying is in the participle: móriens. The phoenix is a bird who, when dying, quae móriens… does what? We need the final word of the poem complete the pair of paradoxes.

óritur. The verb echoes the participle, exóriens, that we saw in the first half of the line; the phoenix rises, óritur, as she dies, móriens. Notice the wonderful rhyme with móritur-óritur in the two halves of this line. Although opposite in meaning, the words are similar in sound, with death an echo of the dawn in Latin, móritur-óritur. So too with the participles, exóriens and móriens, dawning and dying.

That, then, is the paradoxical life and death, vita and mors, of the phoenix. Keeping your eyes and ears open for all the verbal echoes and repetitions, read through it once again - and ponder the phoenix in the image shown above, simultaneously dying and being reborn:

Vita Mihi Mors Est
Ex se ipsa nascens, ex se reparábilis ales,
quae exóriens móritur, quae móriens óritur.

For more of Camerarius's poems in Latin, you can visit the Camerarius stream in my Latin distichs blog. Here is a link to the blog post for this specific poem. As I add new English essays, you will be able to find those in the English stream at the blog. The next poem is also a paradoxical meditation on life and death: Finis ab Origine Pendet.

Pro Re Nata

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 3:33. The poem alludes to the famous story of the turtle who wanted to go flying, something that he was not born to do. The best way, says the poems, is not to be slow as a turtle or swift as an eagle but to find the middle way.

Pro Re Nata
Et tardus nimis, et praeceps nimis esse caveto:
Ille sapit medium qui inter utrumque tenet.

The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There is only one word in this poem that is not on the DCC list:

praeceps, praecipitis - headlong, steep, swift

caveo -ēre cāvī cautum: be on guard, beware
et: and
ille, illa, illud: that
inter: between, among; during (+ acc.)
medius -a -um: middle, central
nāscor nāscī nātus sum: be born; nātus, son
nimius -a -um: too much, excessive; nimis or nimium, excessively
prō: for, on behalf of, in proportion to (+abl.)
qui, quae, quod: who, which, what; quis quid: who? what? which?
rēs reī f.: thing (rēs pūblica, commonwealth; rēs familiāris, family property, estate; rēs mīlitāris, art of war; rēs novae, revolution)
sapio sapere sapīvī: be wise
sum, esse, fuī: be, exist
tardus -a -um: slow, sluggish, lingering
teneo -ēre -uī tentum: hold
uter-, utra-, utrumque: each of two

Demens Aliena Requirit

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 2:33. You can see that the lynx has a wonderful meal at hand (or "at paw"), but she instead has her eyes on the flock in the distance.

Demens Aliena Requirit
Incertis inhiat, certissima spernit avarus
Ceu praesente alium lynx cupit ipsa cibum.

Here is the vocabulary:

demens - mad, insane
alienus - another's, belonging to another
requiro - seek, ask for, pine for
incertus - unsure, not certain
inhio - gape, covet, desire
certus - certain, sure
sperno - scorn, despise
avarus - greedy, avaricious
ceu - like
praesens - present, at hand
alius - other, another
lynx - lynx
cupio - desire, want
ipse - emphatic adj/pronoun
cibus - food

Latin Without Latin: Ultro Se Voluere Capi

This is my fifteenth "Latin without Latin" essay. For background and a link to other essays, see this page: About the English Essays. This little poem comes from a collection of nature emblems by Joachim Camerarius (1534-1598). Camerarius published four of these books of nature emblems, with one hundred emblems in each book. Each emblem consists of a title (often in the form of a motto or proverb), an image, a two-line poem, and a one-page essay. This particular emblem comes from the book devoted to fish emblems.

The title comes from a line in Claudian's panegyric in honor of Stilicho (3.342); as often, the title of the emblem is a famous bit of verse or a proverb. Here is the title: Ultro Se Voluére Capi. Let's see what it means:

Ultro. This Latin adverb means beyond, on the other side, farther. (It is related to the Latin word ultra as in the English word ultraviolet.) The adverb ultro actually covers a wide range of meanings; literally, it means something above and beyond, but metaphorically it means something done voluntarily, above and beyond what is required.

Se. This is the Latin reflexive pronoun. The meaning of the pronoun (first-, second- or third-person, singular or plural) depends on the subject of the sentence, so we will need to wait to see just what this particular se might mean.

Voluére. This is from the Latin verb velle, meaning to want or wish (the same root as in the English word voluntary). It is the third-person plural, past tense: voluére, they wanted. So now we also know the meaning of the reflexive pronoun: it refers back to the subject of this verb - them, themselves. Now we just need an infinitive to complete the idea.

Capi. This is from the Latin word capere, meaning to grab, catch (compare the English word capture). It is the passive infinitive that we were looking for: to be caught, to be captured. Now we can put it all together, Ultro, voluntarily, they wanted that they themselves be captured, i.e. they wanted to be captured, Se Voluére Capi.

So, that gives us our title: Ultro Se Voluére Capi, Voluntarily They Wanted to be Caught. Take a look at the visual emblem below to see the poor fish who are being described! Now let's see how the poem amplifies this idea:

Dum cápimus, cápimur; si línquimus, haud capiémur:
Instrúctas vitat, qui sapit, insídias.

Here's the first line:

Dum. This Latin word means while.

cápimus. Here is the verb capere again, this time in the first-person plural present: we grab, we catch. So, since we are talking about fish, you can imagine what they are grabbing: bait on the hook - dum cápimus, while we grab (the bait).

cápimur. Here is the verb capere again, this time in the passive: we are caught. So now we have the first half of the line: while we fish grab the bait, dum cápimus, cápimur, we are captured! Metaphorically, of course, we humans can also be caught as we grasp at the things that tantalize us.

Now let's see what the second half of the first line says:

si. This Latin word means if.

línquimus. This is from the Latin verb linquere, meaning to leave behind, abandon (compare the English word relinquish). The form is first-person plural present: we leave behind, we abandon. So, si línquimus, if we (fish) can leave behind (the bait).

haud. This Latin word means not, absolutely not.

capiémur. Here we have capere again, passive, but this time it is future tense: haud capiémur, we will not be captured. So, if we can only leave the bait behind, si línquimus, haud capiémur, we will not be caught.

That gives us the first line, with its contrasting alternatives - being caught, dum cápimus, cápimur, as opposed to not being caught, si línquimus, haud capiémur. Now let's see what the second line says:

Instrúctas. This is from the Latin verb instrúere, to build, construct, prepare (compare the English word instruction). The word is from the participle, instrúctus, meaning constructed, prepared. The form is accusative, so we need a noun to complete the phrase, along with a verb.

vitat. Here is our verb: vitare, meaning to avoid. It is third-person singular: (he or she) avoids, vitat. We will have to wait to find out who the subject is.

qui sapit. This is a relative clause in Latin, and it gives us the subject of our verb. The little word qui is the relative pronoun, masculine singular: he (who). The verb sapere means to be wise. So, the relative clause qui sapit means (he) who is wise. Combine that with the verb and you get vitat qui sapit, (he) who is wise avoids... what? We are still waiting for our object.

insídias. This is from the Latin noun insidiae, meaning an ambush or snare. The form is accusative, meaning it is the object of the verb - just as we hoped, since it agrees with our earlier participle: instrúctas insídias, prepared ambushes, constructed snares.

So that gives us our second line - it is about the wise man, qui sapit: he avoids the prepared snares, instrúctas vitat insídias. Note how the noun phrase, instrúctas ... insídias, wraps elegantly around the entire line, Instrúctas vitat qui sapit insídias, something that is just not possible in English.

So, now you have the whole poem:

Ultro Se Voluére Capi
Dum cápimus, cápimur; si línquimus, haud capiémur:
Instrúctas vitat, qui sapit, insídias.

The idea, of course, is that what is true of the fish is true of human beings too. If we grab at some tempting piece of bait, we are captured - but if we let it go, we will not be captured. The wise man, like the wise fish, avoids the traps that have been prepared and await us!

You can see the fish in the emblem below. For more of Camerarius's poems in Latin, you can visit the Camerarius stream in my Latin distichs blog. Here is a link to the blog post for this specific poem. As I add new English essays, you will be able to find those in the English stream at the blog. The next poem is a medieval rhyme: Rusticus Est Vere.

Exitus In Dubio Est

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 3:32. As Camerarius explains in the essay, you would expect the hawk would be able to defeat the heron, but if the heron attempts to drop excrement onto the hawk, making it unable to fly. The hawk in turn is aware of this and seeks to attack the heron from above. Hence the dubious outcome as the two struggle with one another.

Sunt dubii eventus incertaque proelia Martis:
Vincitur haud raro, qui prope victor erat.

The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are three words which are not on the DCC list:

incertus -a -um - uncertain, unsure, unreliable
Mars, Martis m. - Mars (Ares), god of war, war
ēventus, ēventūs m. - event, accident, result

dubius -a -um: doubtful, sine dubiō, without a doubt, certainly
haud: not
proelium -ī n.: battle
prope: near, next; (comp.) propior, (superl.) proximus; (adv.) propē, nearly, almost
que (enclitic) - and
qui quae quod: who, which, what / quis quid: who? what? which?
rarus -a -um: wide apart, loose, thin; rare, seldom
sum, esse, fuī: be, exist
victor -ōris m.: conqueror
vincō vincere vīcī victum: conquer

Opis Indiga

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 1:32. The emblem is inspired by a line from Juvenal 8, stratus humi palmes viduas desiderat ulmos.

Opis Indiga
Stratus humi absentem palmes sterilescit ob ulmum:
Indiget alterius quilibet auxilio.

Here is the vocabulary:

ops - power, might, resources
indigus - need, lacking
sterno - spread, lay out, lay low
humus - ground, soil, earth
absens - absent, missing
palmes - young vine branch
sterilesco - become barren, sterile
ob - on account of, because
ulmus - elm tree
indigeo - need, lack, require
alter - other, another
quilibet - whoever, anyone, everyone
auxilium - help, aid

Grato Servisse Patrono

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 2:32. You can read about Alexander the Great's famous horse, Bucephalus, at Wikipedia.

Grato Servisse Patrono
Gratus equo ut fuerit, magnus docet ille Macedo:
Ornat honore novo, condidit huic tumulum.

The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are three words which are not on the DCC list, plus one proper name:

Macedo - the Macedonian, Alexander the Great
orno -āre: fit out, equip; embellish, adorn
patrōnus -ī m.: protector, defender, patron
tumulus, m. - mound, hill, tomb

condō -dere -didī -ditum: build, found; store up; hide, conceal
doceō -ēre -uī doctum: teach
equus -ī m.: horse
grātus -a -um: pleasant; grateful
hic haec hoc: this; hōc: on this account
honor -ōris m.: honor, glory; office, post
ille illa illud: that
māgnus -a -um great
novus -a -um: new
serviō -īre: be a slave, serve (+ dat.)
sum, esse, fuī: be, exist
ut, uti: as (+ indic.); so that, with the result that (+ subj.)

Stertentes Opprimit Hostis

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 4:31. The title, Stertentes Opprimit Hostis, means "The Enemy Overwhelms Those Who Snore." :-)

Ut capiat pisces, piscator nocte laborat;
Ut seipsum servet, surgere nemo paret?

The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are only two words in this poem that are not on the DCC list:

piscātor, piscātōris m. - fisherman
piscis -is m.: fish

capiō capere cēpī captum: seize
ipse ipsa ipsum: him- her- itself
labōrō -āre: toil, work; be in trouble
nēmo: no one (gen. nullius, dat. nulli, abl. nullo or nulla > nullus -a -um)
nox noctis f.: night
parō -āre: prepare, acquire; parātus -a -um, ready
servō -āre: save, watch over
sui, sibi, sē: him- her- itself
surgō surgere surrēxī surrēctum: rise
ut, uti: as (+ indic.); so that, with the result that (+ subj.)

Et Voluisse Sat Est

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 3:31. Camerarius' essay explains the use of the velamentum and vincula which are used in hawking; even when restrained in this way, the hawk strives to fly up and away.

Et Voluisse Sat Est
Saepius excelsis tenuis res officit ausis,
Et tamen attollit mens generosa caput.

Here is the vocabulary:

et - and, even
volo - want, will, wish
sat - enough
sum - be, exist
saepe - often
excelsus - lofty, high, exalted
tenuis - fine, delicate, slight
res - thing
officio - block, check, impede
ausum - bold deed, exploit
tamen - but, however
attollo - lift, raise up, exalt
mens - mind
generosa - noble, of noble birth
caput - head

Nec Dum Cessat Amor

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 1:31. The image shows a turtle dove, a symbol of faithful love and devotion. Meanwhile, the almond tree alludes to the story of Phyllis and Demophoon.

Nec Dum Cessat Amor
Omnia cum rapiat mors, non extinguit amorem,
Quo devincta sibi est usque marita fides.

The vocabulary is keyed to the DCC Latin Vocabulary list. There are three words which are not on the DCC list:

cesso -āre - delay, stop, cease
dēvinciō, -īre, dēvinxī, dēvinctum - bind together, tie up, oblige
exstinguo, -ere, exstinxī, exstinctum - put out, quench, kill

amor -ōris m.: love
cum: with (prep. + abl.); when, since, although (conjunction + subj.)
dum: while (+ indic.); until (+ subj.); provided that (+ subj.)
fidēs -eī f.: trust, faith
marītus -ī m.: husband
mors mortis f.: death
neque nec: and not, nor; neque . . . neque, neither . . . nor
nōn: not
omnis -e: all, every, as a whole
qui quae quod: who, which, what / quis quid: who? what? which?
rapiō rapere rapuī raptum: seize, tear away
sui, sibi, sē: him- her- itself
sum, esse, fuī: be, exist
ūsque: up to; continuously

Haec Vera Potentia Est

Here is today's emblem and distich by Joachim Camerarius, 2:31. In the essay, Camerarius invokes Plato's use of the horse allegory in the Phaedrus to which this emblem alludes.

Haec Vera Potentia Est
Affectus quisquis mentis moderatur habenis,
Fertur equo domito; qui vagus, ille fero.

Here is the vocabulary:

hic - this, this one
verus - true
potentia - power
sum - be, exist
affectus - affection, love, emotion
quisquis - whoever, anyone, everyone
mens - mind
moderor - guide, control, govern
habena - halter, reins
fero - carry, bear, report
equus - horse
domo - subdue, master, tame
qui - who, which, that
ille - that, that one
ferus - wild