Showing posts with label locus amoenus. Show all posts
Showing posts with label locus amoenus. Show all posts

Friday, 13 July 2012

CIL VIII 17938: occ est vivere

I first encountered the text of the following inscription - from Roman Africa (Numidia) - in June 2007 in the Caerleon Museum. I have yet to consider it further.

VENARI    avis                 LAVARI
LUDERE   vas cum        RIDERE
                     ramulo
OCC EST   ramus (?)     VIVERE

Dessau (?) 08262 f.

Left margin, at ninety degrees to the text, from bottom to top: QVIEVER. Bottom right margin, upside down and right to left OCANAS.

Tuesday, 25 August 2009

Σχολή

Olson writes in his preface to the Oxford Thesmophoriazousae commentary, which he edited with Colin Austin:


I arrived at the train station in Cambridge deeply ill at ease, expecting hard questions, difficult negotiations, and perhaps an abrupt and unhappy end to my trip. But the next day after lunch, after Colin had spent the morning reading through what I had given him and we were sitting together in his upstairs study, he turned to me and said simply, 'Well, how shall we go about doing this?' Our partnership has been easy and cordial ever since.


... But I recall with great fondness Colin and Mishtu's hospitality to me in their wonderful home full of books, children and grandchildren, students, fine wine, and Mishtu's beautiful batiks and the smell of her extraordinary cooking.

Thursday, 25 June 2009

Bucolicon Americanon

I have still to collect the parallels between the ol' standard Sleepy Time Down South and the Bucolici Graeci.
Pale moon shining on the fields below,
Folks are crooning songs soft and low,
Needn't tell me so, because I know,
It's sleepy time down south.

Soft winds blowing through the pinewood trees,
Folks down there live a life of ease,
When the twilight brings the evening breeze,
It's sleepy time down south.

Steamboats on the river a-comin' and a-goin',
Splashing the night away,
Hear those banjos ringin', the folks are all a-singin',
They dance till break of day.

Dear old southland, with its dreamy songs
Takes me back there where I belong.
How I'd love to be in mother's arms
When it's sleepy time down south.