The Evening Mouthful

reasoned splutterings & hasty wisdom

Archive for the ‘poetry’ Category

In Pace (Sacred Musical Poem in Latin)

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This is from the “Book of Wisdom,” and was adapted into an operatic piece by Patrick Doyle for the 1996 Ken Branagh adaptation of Hamlet.

Here it is as performed in the film by Placido Domingo:

Here it is with full chorus:

Here is the text with English translation:

DILIGITE JUSTITIAM, O JUDICES TERRAE.
Cherish righteousness, o judges of the earth.

JUSTORUM ANIMAE IN MANU DEI SUNT, ET NON TANGET ILLOS TORMENTUM MORTIS.
The souls of the righteous are in the hand of God, and the torment of death will not touch them.

VISI SUNT OCULIS INSAPIENTIUM MORI, ET AESTIMATA EST AFFLICTIO EXITUS ILLORUM – ILLI AUTEM SUNT IN PACE.
In the sight of the unwise they seemed to die, and their departure is taken for misery – but they are at peace.

TYRANNUS IMPIUS NON HABET SPEM, ET SI QUIDEM LONGAE VITAE ERIT, IN NIHILUM COMPUTABITUR.
The ungodly ruler has no hope, and even if he lives long, he shall be regarded as nothing.

PRINCEPS AUTEM JUSTUS, ILLE IN PACE EST.
But the just prince, he is at rest.

Written by Dave Dueck

January 26, 2010 at 1:43 pm

Posted in film music, poetry, video

Midwinter Poem – “Now Winter Nights Enlarge”

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Originally posted in my Great Expectorations updates about a year ago, this is a little nugget of bleak midwinter post-renaissance goodness by Thomas Campion, titled “Now Winter Nights Enlarge.”

***

Now winter nights enlarge
The number of their hours,
And clouds their storms discharge
Upon the airy towers.
Let now the chimneys blaze,
And cups o’erflow with wine;
Let well-tuned words amaze
With harmony divine.
Now yellow waxen lights
Shall wait on honey love,
While youthful revels, masques, and courtly sights
Sleep’s leaden spells remove.

This time doth well dispense
With lovers’ long discourse;
Much speech hath some defense,
Though beauty no remorse.
All do not all things well;
Some measures comely tread,
Some knotted riddles tell,
Some poems smoothly read.
The summer hath his joys
And winter his delights;
Though love and all his pleasures are but toys,
They shorten tedious nights.

~Thomas Campion (1617)

Written by Dave Dueck

January 22, 2010 at 9:19 am

Posted in poetry

(catching up on Saturday after procrastinating all week)

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So! Full circle come the days, labor ceasing short,

And thoughts of lovely leisure, deep and sweet, he now begins to court;

First some foemen must be slain, banished from his shores,

By taking time to list, begin, and finish all his put-off chores.

*  *  *

The sun may shine, the birds may sing, the breeze may kiss

But if his duties are not done, these soft delights he’ll surely miss!

So plods he on, with focus dim, and eyes downcast,

Willing that the foolish jobs be gone, and the weekends longer last!

Written by Dave Dueck

May 3, 2009 at 9:34 pm

Posted in poetry, regular

(working happily on payday Friday)

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Faith! He scattered thought and heart for his honest pay,

His mind becomes a new man’s brain and chooses not to play;

But play he does in spite, and laugh he lightly will,

For at his job the jokes fly thick, backs are slapp’d, mustard spill’d!

*  *  *

Enjoy one’s hourly work? Suggestion almost lewd!

But can the hours pass one by and gambols not include?

For true it is that work is hard, and tiresome too,

But money’s earned, the air is sweet, the dome above a stunning Bloo!

Written by Dave Dueck

May 3, 2009 at 9:10 pm

Posted in poetry, regular

(after dinner on a Thursday)

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Sits! He revels in the haze of hours well performed,

Sustained and filled to bursting point with foods both saved and warmed;

His mind is tended well, his heart has source of Joy,

His soul and body fit to serve (withal, to be employed!).

*  *  *

If aimless, idle hands are lurking devils’ toys,

Then here they surely will not find a fount of demon joys!

Engaged in motley work of high and mean design,

His quiet moments teem with Life, and blessed hope Divine!

Written by Dave Dueck

May 1, 2009 at 3:06 am

Posted in poetry, regular

(just before bed after a very busy Wednesday)

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Peace! He rubs his weary orbs, dimming into rest,

Pleas’d God hath through-ordained the day to offer him His best;

The night is fastly fleeting, come the Sun he’ll cry,

“My sky still swims surrounding me, another day to fly!”

*  *  *

For surely massive mountains call his reaching climb,

And hills were never overstepped by resting all the time;

So now he soundly takes the briefest peace he needs,

The sleep received will aid him run with all the strength of steeds.

Written by Dave Dueck

April 30, 2009 at 5:25 am

Posted in poetry, regular

(eating breakfast on Tuesday)

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Still, he absorbeth bran with wakeful prudence, slow,

And sips his warmish liquids after tasting toasted dough;

His day is long, tho’ having only just begun,

Endure he surely can, and will! He has already won.

*  *  *

In speed and duty both the hours will fly away,

Focused in the work of busy hands, the minutes will not weigh

His mind will not be idle, his eyes intent on work,

Soon enough his debts are paid, about his neck no longer lurk.

Written by Dave Dueck

April 28, 2009 at 2:30 pm

Posted in poetry, regular