Rutilius Namatianus' Going Home

De Reditu Suo

Martha Malamud

• Editore: Routledge
• Anno: 2016
• ISBN:
  9781317296645
• Edizione: 1
• Argomento: Histoire
• Categoria: Histoire antique

Martha Malamud provides the only scholarly English translation of De Reditu Suo with significant notes and commentary that explore historical, literary, cultural, and mythical references, as well as commenting on literary allusions, the structure, diction, and style of the poem, and textual issues.

De Reditu Suo provides fascinating insights into travel and communications networks in the rapidly changing, fragmented world of the fifth century. A substantial introductory essay explores Rutilius' place in several intellectual and literary traditions, as the poem is a sophisticated piece of literature that both draws on the rich tradition of classical Latin poetry and reflects the distinctive formal features of late antique poetry. The poem also conveys the thoughts of a man passionately devoted to Rome and its cultural heritage, enmeshed in the tumultuous political and social upheaval of his day, caught between his hopes for Rome's restoration and his fear of its disintegration.

With line-for-line translation from the Latin and a scholarly introduction, extensive notes, and comprehensive bibliography, Martha Malamud makes this important text accessible and relevant for students and scholars in Classics, Comparative Literature, Religious Studies, Medieval Studies, and Ancient History, as well as independent readers with an interest in the literature of the period.

GOING HOME

Book 1

Rutilius addresses the reader and explains his reasons for leaving Rome

O Reader, wonder rather at my swift return,

that I’m so quick to leave behind Rome’s charms.¹

For what is ‘long’ to those who’ve loved Rome all their lives?

What always gives us pleasure is not ‘long.’

How greatly and how often can I count them blessed, 5

those to whom this happy land gave birth!²

Those proud descendants of Rome’s aristocracy

enhance their family pride with civic glory.

The fertile seeds of virtue³ sent from heaven could not

have been entrusted to a better place. 10

But lucky too the men who drew the second lot

and won the right to have a Latin home!

The sacred Senate opens its doors to immigrants

whose merit earns them senatorial rank.⁴

They enjoy the power their Senate colleagues have, 15

and share in part the Genius they adore:⁵

just so, we trust, within the axis of the heavens,

the council of the highest god is held.⁶

Fate snatches me away from these beloved shores—

the fields of Gaul are calling for their son. 20

Those fields, as lovely once as now they’re pitiful,

are ravaged and deformed by these long wars.

When times are good, ignoring home’s not such a crime,

but now shared losses call back native sons.

The family home requires our tearful presence now, 25

for often grief can tell how best to serve.

Ignoring such disasters further is not right:

delaying aid will only make them worse.

Great fires have ravaged proud plantations. Now it’s time

to start from scratch, rebuilding humble huts. 30

And if my native springs themselves could utter words,

and if the trees themselves could speak aloud,⁷

they’d pick me up and scold me, fill my sails, and end

my homesickness by sending me back home.

Dear Rome’s embrace is loosened. Conquered, I go home. 35

This journey home, so late, is hard to bear.

I chose to go by sea, for rivers flood the level

roads and rocks obstruct the mountain ways.

Since the coastal road and fields of Tuscany,

besieged by Gothic hordes with fire and sword, 40

no longer tame the woods with homes nor bridge the streams,⁸

it’s better to set sail on dangerous seas.

The gates that I must leave behind I shower with kisses;

I cross, unwillingly, the sacred threshold.

In tears, I pray for pardon and I offer praise,⁹ 45

as far as grief allows my words to run:

Rutilius’ farewell to Rome

“Hear, O queen, O fairest of your universe,

O Rome, received among the starry skies,

of men and gods alike the mother, hear my prayer:

your temples grant proximity to heaven. 50

We sing of you and always will, while fate allows—

every man alive remembers you!

Accursed oblivion will hide the sun before

the honor that I owe you leaves my heart,

for you extend your gifts just as the sun his rays 55

where all-embracing Ocean ebbs and flows.

The Sun, who holds all things in place, revolves for you:

his steeds both rise and set in your domain,

for you were not slowed down by Libya’s flaming sands;

the Bear, though armed with ice, has not stopped you. 60

As far as your life force has stretched towards either pole,

so far your courage spreads across the lands.¹⁰

From many different peoples you have made one nation:

even bad men profit from your rule.

Because you offer equal justice to the conquered 65

you have made one city of the world.

We state that Mars and Venus are parents of our race,

Rome’s father and the mother of Aeneas:¹¹

the clemency of victors softens strength of arms,

the name of each befits your character,¹² 70

and thus you are delighted by both war and mercy,

you conquer those you fear and love the conquered.

Both she who made the olive and the god of wine

are worshipped, and the first to plow the earth;

the god of medicine earned altars through his art; 75

through courage Hercules became a god:¹³

and you embrace the world with triumphs, bringing law,

and unite all things in mutual truce.

O Goddess, Romans worship you across the globe,

beneath your peaceful yoke their necks are free. 80

The stars that guard all things in their perpetual course

have seen no rule more lovely than your own.

Now, did Assyrian arms shape anything like this?

The Medes could only dominate their neighbors.

Great Persian kings and Macedonian tyrants passed 85

authority between them, back and forth.

When you were born you didn’t have more souls or hands,

you had more foresight and judiciousness.

Wars justly fought and peace, not domineering, brought

your noble glory to the height of wealth. 90

What you rule is less than you deserve to rule

and you surpass great deeds with your own deeds.

To count your lofty monuments and all your trophies

is a task like numbering the stars!

The gleaming temples dazzle the eyes of passers-by: 95

I could believe the gods themselves live thus.¹⁴

What can I say of streams that flow through aqueducts

higher than Iris spreads her rainy bow?¹⁵

You would call them mountains grown as high as stars:

the Greeks would praise such things as giants’ work. 100

Diverted rivers are concealed within your walls,

and towering baths consume entire lakes.

No less your dewy fields abound in their own streams,

your walls echo the sound of splashing springs.

From here a cooling breath tempers the sweltering wind 105

and purest water quenches harmless thirst.

For you a sudden flood of scalding water crushed

the enemy on the Tarpeian paths:

had it stayed forever, I might think it chance—

but it flowed for you, then disappeared.¹⁶ 110

What to say of forests closed in coffered halls

where slave birds flit about with varied song?¹⁷

The year is ever gentle in your constant spring:

the winter, conquered, now protects your charms.

Lift your sacred head with laurel crowned, O Rome, 115

restore its withered leaves to youthful green.¹⁸

Let golden towers blaze upon your diadem

and let your golden shield spew constant flame!¹⁹

Forget your wounds; conceal these grim disasters. Scorn

your pain and let your wounds close up ...