Blog friend JES the other day reminded me of this, and it seemed so appropriate to this blog. Dowson, in fact, can probably be counted as another of my 'Unsuitable Role Models': a tremendous poet, but he drank himself to death with wine and laudanum in his early thirties.
Madder music and more wine, indeed!
Non Sum Qualis Eram Bonae Sub Regno Cynarae
Last night, ah, yesternight, betwixt her lips and mine
There fell thy shadow, Cynara! thy breath was shed
Upon my soul between the kisses and the wine;
And I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, I was desolate and bowed my head:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
All night upon mine heart I felt her warm heart beat,
Night-long within mine arms in love and sleep she lay;
Surely the kisses of her bought red mouth were sweet;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
When I awoke and found the dawn was gray:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I have forgot much, Cynara! gone with the wind,
Flung roses, roses riotously with the throng,
Dancing, to put thy pale, lost lilies out of mind;
But I was desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, all the time, because the dance was long:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
I cried for madder music and for stronger wine,
But when the feast is finished and the lamps expire,
Then falls thy shadow, Cynara! the night is thine;
And I am desolate and sick of an old passion,
Yea, hungry for the lips of my desire:
I have been faithful to thee, Cynara! in my fashion.
Ernest Dowson (1867-1900)
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2 comments:
Haha...
I once saw another version of the "Non sum qualis eram" line. It ended, "...sub regno bony Sinatra." Wish I could remember the context -- there aren't THAT many people inclined to puns on Classical languages!
Oh, wait. Google to the rescue:
"Midnight at Tim's Place" is typical of the surreal quality of many of these later pieces [by James Thurber]. The line between reality and fantasy blurs and shifts as the conversationalists assume false names, get off complex and subtle puns, and engage one another in contests of fanciful invention. The man across the table pretends to take Thurber for Bing Crosby. "How are you, Bing?" he asks. "Non sum qualis eram sub regno bony Sinatra," replies Thurber, mixing ancient and modern cultures in an impressive display of linguistic virtuosity.
(Source)
Oh, that's marvellous. I haven't read any Thurber for years - I should dig some out again.
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