Technopaegnion

Preface. Ausonius to Pacatus, Proconsul. I know that, in proportion to the smallness of the labour, no praise can come to me from others — which, however, if you grant it, as Afranius says in his Thais... What you are about to read are monosyllables, like certain points of speech: in which there is no place for eloquence, no framing of thoughts, no proposition, no answer, no conclusion, and none of the other rhetorical devices that cannot be in a single verse; but they cohere thus, like the separated rings of chains. And I have woven this sportive little work all at once, accustomed as I am to begin with rather greater things; but the labour is in the slight thing, yet the glory is not slight, if they are approved. You will make them be something; for without you they will be monosyllables — or something even less. In them I have, as far as concerns the use, played; as far as concerns the trouble, laboured. I have given the little book the name Technopaegnion (the Art-Game), that you might not believe either that play was wanting to the labourer, or art to the player.

Ausonius to his Paulinus. I have sent you the Technopaegnion, a useless little work of my idle leisure. The little verses are begun with monosyllables and ended with monosyllables. Nor did the thorny difficulty stop only here, but to the misery of joining was added this: that the same monosyllable which was the end of the foregoing verse should become the beginning of the following one. Say, then: O the delay, O the penalty! A vain thing, indeed, I have busied myself with: it is meagre, and is disdained; it is disconnected, and is entangled; though it be something, it is caught at as worth nothing. I have laboured, nevertheless, that it might have something either historical or dialectical; for the necessity of the rule excluded poetic or sophistic lightness. In sum, there is nothing for you to marvel at: but, a few letters being added, there is something for you to pity, and not to wish to rival; and if, descending even to this, you should take greater trouble, to the detriment of your wit and eloquence, than delight from the desire of imitation.

Verses both begun and ended with monosyllables, so that they run back from the end of the verse to the beginning. The frail affairs of men Chance feeds and rules and destroys — Chance, doubtful and forever wavering, which kindly Hope cherishes — Hope, bounded by no age, whose limit is Death — Death, greedy, which Night drowns in infernal gloom — Night, that shall pass away in its turn, when the golden Light shall have returned — Light, granted as a gift of the gods, whose forerunner is the Sun — the Sun, from whom mighty-in-arms Mars does not hide in the theft of Venus — Mars, sprung of no father, whom the Thracian race worships — that unbridled race of men, for whom into every crime rushes the law (Fas) — to slaughter a man in their rites: that is the savage custom of the place — the savage custom of a bold people, whom no law holds — the law which Justice founded by a natural command — Justice begotten of the piety of men, Justice, the sure mind of God — the Mind, which with heavenly sense waters the deserving Heart — the Heart, vigorous, holding the likeness of the world, the strength and force of the soul: yet here there is no force; it is only a jest and a thing of naught.

Preface to those with monosyllables placed only at the end. As in the old proverb it is said "the bandy-leg follows the bent prop," I weave below the worthlessness of like trifles; and these little verses too are ended with monosyllables, with a free opening, however, though with a lawful end. But I have laboured, that, as far as they could before most indulgent ears, the absurd might chime, the insipid have a savour, the gaping fit together; in short, that they might have both bitterness with sweetness, and ineptitude with charm, and harshness with smoothness — all of which, since the unpleasing matter robs them of grace, may a kindly reading make agreeable. Do you too entrust your things to me the more securely, since they are better, that — as we began with an adage — we may end with a proverb, and "the mules scratch one another."

Rival of the gods, imitator of Nature, all-bearing Art, that my game may be eager to please Pacatus, be the leader of my work. Though the law be strict, unlovely, and not suited to songs, yet under so great a judge it shall receive the right of utterance; for to the ridiculous too glory is given, unless chance forbid.

ON THE LIMBS. In boys a new tooth marks the first seventh year; a stronger voice anticipates the years of puberty. Unconquered both by winds and by suns is the forehead of men; with their flesh the sinews unite the hard bone. Restless, vigorous, rounded, keen, and warm, the heart palpitates, whence the senses are strong, which the ruling mind quickens; and the talkative mouth renders them into words by a measured law. How strong is the dark gall — how small a portion of a man! How slender, and how great a bodily mass it bears — the leg! Under how great a weight does the foot guide our way!

ON DISCONNECTED THINGS. Often in marriages the dowry becomes harmful, if it is too great. Either sex is powerful, but the male prevails in command. He who acts rightly, not he who lords it, shall be king. Strife harasses friendships and dissolves treaties. Begin whatever you do: the first part of a work is as good as the whole. Praise insinuates the deserving into heaven and sets them among the gods. A city is crowded both with disciplines and with vices. In safe cities, more fortified than the cities is the citadel. Great is the honour of gold, yet the price of gold is bronze. The long day is laborious for a man, but a temperance is night, of which the wakeful, restless race of the Ethiopians is deprived, where the clear light ever abides in eternal revolution.

ON THE GODS. The heaven-dwellers too have their monosyllables. First of the gods is Fas, which is Themis to the Greeks; after her Rhea, who to the Latins is Ops; then the brother of Jove and Consus, Tartarean Dis; and the sister and wife of her brother, the queen of the gods, Vis (Force, that is, Juno-Vesta); and the father who is found with a four-yoked chariot, the Sun; and he who stirs the fierce motions of war, mighty-in-arms Mars, whom never does piety, never does good Peace solicit. Nor shall you be passed in silence, dweller of the groves, Maenalian Pan; nor the genius of houses, the Lar begotten of Larunda; and prevailing over the rivers of Italy, the sulphurous Nar; and she who avenges the perjuries against the gods, night-coloured Styx; and the leveller of the sail-flying sea, the white south-west wind, Libs; and Hope, that never forsakes a man in doubtful straits.

ON FOODS. Nor shall I keep silent of our foods, which ancient custom holds, to which is added, for a relish, the salt of the sea. Once a common food for the herd and for man was the acorn, before indeed the spiky grain was at hand in the fields. Soon spelt, and the porridge-making meal from the flour of spelt, with which the people of Romulus once furnished their tables — hence food, hence drink, when the porridge was diluted with water. Among the grains is the cumin, equalling pepper in its bite; and from the Pelusian seed the flat, rounded lentil; and, defended by a double shell, the five-kinded nut; and what is pleasing for food and drink, the keen labour of the bees, honey: that liquor of a strange nature, on whose top the lees float.

ON HISTORIES (Myths). A new solace it gave you, Phoebus, the Oebalian flower (Hyacinth). By another flower the spring made sacred is guilty of the death of Narcissus. The evil glory of the slaying of Adonis is the lightning-swift boar. The perjured Lapith (Ixion) the Junonian cloud mocks; and the Parnassian lot of the Delphi-dweller (Apollo) mocks the grandson of Aeacus too. The Thracian, the Libyan, and the Cimmerian strait the cow (Io) cuts through. Not without the fate of a Hamadryad falls the tree-trunk of the forest. By that with which Venus was begotten, the Saturnian sickle, it was cut off. Dry amid the Scythian rocks stood the cross for the birds (where Prometheus hung), whence from Prometheus' body a bloody dew sprinkles the crags, and the whetstone-rock breeds dire aconite. When Ibycus perished, the high-flying crane was the informer. At the tomb of the grandson of Aeacus (Achilles) was slaughtered the sister-in-law of Andromache (Polyxena). In the Argive prison slow death came upon Philopoemen. The third spoils of honour the despoiled Armorican lord gave. A late death, by a poisoned draught, took off Hannibal. What great undeserved affairs of Asia did treachery give over to death! The avenging torch blazed from the Euboean rocks. He stands at the cup of Jove whom Dardanian Tros begot (Ganymede). On swift wings borne above the air, the man of Crete (Daedalus). The savage Thracian (Tereus) brought unchaste violence upon you, Philomela. Barbarous is the Lydian, deceitful the Getan, womanish the Phrygian; treacherous the Ligurians; held at no value the Carian. The robe-trailing Seres comb the woolly fleeces of the forest. Known among three-bodied portents is the Theban Sphinx. Known to the Caledonian brides is the womanish creature, the Strix (screech-owl).

ON EARLY SPRING. When the year, from its rise, unbars the flower-bearing spring, all things thrive: every grove grows green, the golden-haired country shines, and the root that is to spread shadows is driven up from its base. No longer, gathered in a dense fall to the earth, flows the snow. The fragrance of these breathes, like the glory of Mount Lebanon, the frankincense. Now over the sea flits the robe-trailing Seres-merchant.

BY QUESTION AND ANSWER. Who goes in for the penalty in a capital trial? The surety (vas). What if the suit be one of money — who shall be given? The bondsman (praes). Who is matched against the murmillo? The equal-handed Thracian (Thraex). Among the virtues, what is the name for Mercury? The thief (fur). Censers and bowls — what is the third vessel of the gods? The platter (lanx). What land, girt by the sea, bred Hippocrates? Cos. Does the flock or the kingdom trouble the daughter of Minos more? The flock (grex). What, besides a cloud, was set upon the Phaeacians? A mountain (mons). Tell, in the absence of food and sleep, what is fatter? The dormouse (glis). Tell, what makes hides suit shields? Glue (glus). Of "sponte" (the ablative case), what will be the nominative? Spons. What four-foot creature is joined to the auspices by birds of song? The mouse (mus). What floats on the sea, that does not swim in a river? Pitch (pix). What contains twelve equal parts? The as. If a third part be wanting, what remains? The bes.

ON GREEK AND LATIN MONOSYLLABIC LETTERS. The leader of the elements thrives in Latin studies — A; and last among the Argive characters is written Ω (omega). What Eta is among the Aeolians, and what Epsilon avails, this is the Latin E. The Latin E, always short, the Doric voice supplies as Ε. With this rounded and shrill sound the Attic race denies — Ο (omicron). What Ω and O are, the Roman voice balances as Greek with O. I am a letter, a full voice like Iota, commanding — I. Unknown to the Cecropian (Greek) characters, sounding funereal — V. Pythagoras' fork, I lie open with ambiguous branches — Y. In Greek words I am never seen last — M. A reclining Zeta, if it should rise, will be the character that is read as N. Imitating the Maeander and its wandering bends, I wander — Ξ (xi). The divided monosyllable of Beta is the Italic B. Not the form, but the voice of Delta I bear — the Roman D. What the form of a hostile yoke is, that Π (pi) will make. If you write the Latin P (Pe), I shall be the Cecropian P (rho). And the Rho which is Greek will be changed into the Latin P. As a mast bears the sailyard on its top, so am I — T. The breath here, with its blowing quickening the slightest things — H. This, added in Latin to three names only — K, after C prevailed, having before performed the office of Gamma; and, doubled, it gave another title in its own stead — G. Girt with two handles, when it is Iota, you shall read — Ϡ (sampi). In Latium the number ten, but among the Argives — Χ (chi). This image of a crane, the Palamedean, is stretched out — Φ (phi). Coppa I was once in Boeotia, now the Latin Q. With my three-horned-forked shape, I am nearly the last — Ψ (psi).

THE GRAMMARIAN-SCOURGE. And word-craft? Hiss now, you who, too fierce, condemn frivolous things: even a worthless ware has its price! As Ennius records, may a gladdening "gau" (joy) fill you. May the livid mind of men cook up the congealed pus of gall. Tell, what does the Catalepton of Maro signify? In these he set the "al" of the Celts; there follows, no clearer, "tau." Is "sil" the word of a foreign name or of Latium? And what, ill-mingled with its german, is the death-bearing "min"? Why does one thing (res) mark command, lawsuit, and love? In twin skiffs decked over the sea, is it "pons" (a bridge)? In the Bucolics Maro said "saepes" (hedge); why does Cicero say "saeps"? The familiar word, best known to all — if you recall — "lac" (milk): why is it condemned, so that reason rather makes it "lact"? Or is "seps," the deadly bane of Libya, a Roman word? If the innocent is good, and his opposite, the accused — is there "sons" (the guilty)? Rich in wealth — why does it have the name "dis" from Stygian Jove? Whence does the man of Rudiae (Ennius) say of the high-sounding house of the gods "cael"? And by whose custom is it that he added "endo" "suam do" (into his own house)? Or, speaking of foliage, why does he say the poplar "fros" (frond)? But whither do I advance? What is the end, what the measure and the goal? Indulge me, Pacatus, a good man, learned, easy of temper; this whole work is scattered, like the hair of Antiphila: peace.