Horace, Ode 3.13
by Michael Gilleland
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Horace, Ode 3.13by Michael Gilleland |
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Synopsis (by C.H. Moore): "To the spring Bandusia. These exquisite verses may have been occasioned by the festival of springs, the Fontanalia, which fell on October 13; but the situation of the spring thus immortalized -- if indeed it ever existed outside of Horace's fancy -- is totally unknown. A document of 1103 A.D. mentions a fons Bandusinus near Venusia, but it is very probable that this is an identification of the Middle Ages rather than an ancient name. Bandusia seems to be a corruption of Pandosia, and may have been given by Horace to the large spring on his Sabine farm, fons etiam riuo dare nomen idoneus, Epist. 1,16,12. We need be little concerned with the situation, though, for the verses are sufficient in themselves."
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O fons Bandusiae, splendidior uitro, dulci digne mero non sine floribus, cras donaberis haedo, cui frons turgida cornibus |
O Bandusian spring, clearer than glass, worthy of sweet wine and flowers too, tomorrow you'll receive the gift of a kid goat, whose head, swollen with horns |
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primis et uenerem et proelia destinat; frustra: nam gelidos inficiet tibi rubro sanguine riuos, lasciui suboles gregis. |
newly grown, gives promise of love and battles; in vain: for [this] offspring of a playful flock will stain your ice-cold waters with [his] crimson blood. |
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Te flagrantis atrox hora Caniculae nescit tangere, tu frigus amabile fessis uomere tauris praebes et pecori uago. |
The harsh season of the blazing Dog Star is powerless to affect you, you grant welcome coolness to oxen weary of the plow and to the wandering herd. |
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Fies nobilium tu quoque fontium, me dicente cauis impositam ilicem saxis unde loquaces lymphae desiliunt tuae. |
You too will become [one] of the famous springs, when I sing of the oak tree perched upon your hollow rocks, whence your babbling waters leap forth. |
1 This spring may be the one on Horace's Sabine farm described in his Epistles 1.16.12-14: "There is also a spring, suitable to give its name to a river, such that the Hebrus is not colder or clearer where it winds through Thrace. Its flow is good for headache or stomach" (fons etiam riuo dare nomen idoneus, ut nec / frigidior Thracam nec purior ambiat Hebrus, / infirmo capiti fluit utilis, utilis aluo). Cf. also Horace, Satires 2.6.1-4: "This was in my prayers: a plot of ground not too big, where there would be a garden and a spring of water always flowing nearby the house and above these a bit of forest. More generously and better have the gods done" {hoc erat in uotis: modus agri non ita magnus, / hortus ubi et tecto uicinus iugis aquae fons / et paulum siluae super his foret. auctius et / di melius fecere).
Various types of water are often described as like glass (uitreus) in Latin poetry, e.g.
Clear means "translucent", but it does not mean "without color". Colorless glass first appears among the Romans in the first century A.D., after Horace's lifetime.
2 Varro, On the Latin Language 6.22: "Fontanalia is derived from fons (spring), since that day is its feast day. For that reason on that day people throw garlands into springs and crown wells with flowers" (Fontanalia a fonte, quod is dies feriae eius; ab eo tum et in fontes coronas iaciunt et puteos coronant).
Seneca, Letters to Lucilius 41.3: "We worship the sources of great rivers; the unexpected welling up of a mighty river has altars; springs of hot water are worshipped, and either shadiness or great depth has made certain pools holy" (magnorum fluminum capita veneramur; subita ex abdito vasti amnis eruptio aras habet; coluntur aquarum calentium fontes, et stagna quaedam vel opacitas vel immensa altitudo sacravit).
It was difficult for Christian authorities to eradicate the pagan veneration of springs. In a sermon De correctione rusticorum (On the correction of rustic folk), Martin of Braga fulminated:
[8] In addition, moreover, many of those demons who were cast out of heaven are in charge of sea, rivers, springs, and forests. Likewise men, not knowing God, worship these demons as gods and sacrifice to them. [The one] in the sea they call Neptune, in rivers Lamias, in springs Nymphs, in forests Dianas, all of whom are evil demons and wicked spirits. They harm and trouble infidels, who don't know how to protect themselves by the sign of the cross .... [16] For to light candles at stones, trees, springs, and crossroads, what is it other than devil worship? .... To observe feasts such as Vulcanalia and Kalends, to set tables, to place laurel branches, to watch one's step, to pour grain and wine over a log on the hearth, and to throw bread into a spring, what is it other than devil worship?
[8] praeter haec autem multi daemones ex illis qui de caelo expulsi sunt aut in mare aut in fluminibus aut in fontibus aut in silvis praesident, quos similiter homines ignorantes deum quasi deos colunt et sacrificant illis. et in mare quidem Neptunum appellant, in fluminibus Lamias, in fontibus Nymphas, in silvis Dianas, quae omnia maligni daemones et spiritus nequam sunt, qui homines infideles, qui signaculo crucis nesciunt se munire, nocent et vexant .... [16] nam ad petras et ad arbores et ad fontes et per trivia cereolos incendere, quid est aliud nisi cultura diaboli? .... Vulcanalia et Kalendas observare, mensas ornare, et lauros ponere, et pedem observare, et fundere in foco super truncum frugem et vinum, et panem in fontem mittere, quid est aliud nisi cultura diaboli?One of the canons of a Church council at Arles prescribed that, "If in the territory of a bishop infidels light torches or venerate trees, fountains, or stones, and he neglects to abolish this usage, he must know that he is guilty of sacrilege."
6 There are other examples of animal sacrifices at springs and rivers.
Francis Cairns, cited by David West, Horace, Odes III: Dulce Periculum (Oxford: Oxford University Press, 2002), p. 120, emphasizes the verisimilitude in Horace's details -- goats mate in November, and the gestation period is 21 or 22 weeks. If the kid was born in April, its horns would start appearing about six months later, at the time of the Fontanalia festival (October 13), which is the setting of Horace's ode.
9 The Dog Star is Sirius, the brightest star in the night sky, which is the nose of the constellation Canis Major (Great Dog). Canis Major is southwest of the constellation Orion, just below and behind the hunter's heels, where we would expect a dog to be. The "heliacal rising" of a star is the time when a star is first seen in the eastern sky just before sunrise. The ancient Egyptians noticed that the heliacal rising of Sirius occurred just before the annual flooding of the Nile, in the hottest time of the year. Hence the Latin expression "dies caniculares" (dog days), meaning the hottest days of summer. On the Dog Star, see Richard Hinckley Allen, Star Names: Their Lore and Meaning (rpt. Dover, 1963), s.v. Canis Major, pp. 117-131.
10 Vergil, Eclogues 1.52-53: "Here, amidst familiar streams and holy springs, you will enjoy shady coolness" (hic, inter flumina nota / et fontis sacros, frigus captabis opacum).
13 Other famous ancient springs are Castalia on Mount Parnassus, northeast of Delphi, and Aganippe and Hippocrene on Mount Helicon.
15 Horace seems to have been sensitive to the sound of water, as is to be expected from one who was "born by the far-sounding [river] Aufidus" (longe sonantem natus ad Aufidum, Odes 4.9.2). Cf. also Odes 1.7.12 "the home of resounding Albunea" (domus Albuneae resonantis) and 3.30.10 "where the rushing [river] Aufidus roars" (qua uiolens obstrepit Aufidus). By contrast, he notes (Odes 1.31.8) that the Liris is a "quiet river" (taciturnus amnis).
Blandusian Spring, tralucenter than glass,
Worthy wine-offerings, deck'd with flowry grass,
I'le slay to thee to morn
A Kid crown'd with youthful horn,
Choosing his mate, and conflicts, all in vain:
For a lascivious Off-spring shall distain,
And file thy frigid flood
With mixture of Purple blood.
Thou'rt free from Dog-stars fervent influence:
Thou do'st thy sweet refreshing streams dispence
To Bullocks tired out,
And Heards roving all about.
Ev'n thou shalt be a far-renowned Spring,
Whilest I of Rocks crown'd with the Ilex sing:
Whence the loud waters rush
Down head-long with vi'lent gush.
The English poet William Wordsworth (1770-1850) refers to Horace's ode more than once, usually calling the spring Blandusia instead of Bandusia. In his poem "An Evening Walk" (lines 72-85), he accuses Horace of being a "ruthless minister of death" because of his intention to sacrifice the kid goat:
--Did Sabine grace adorn my living line, Blandusia's praise, wild stream, should yield to thine! Never shall ruthless minister of death 'Mid thy soft glooms the glittering steel unsheath; No goblets shall, for thee, be crowned with flowers, No kid with piteous outcry thrill thy bowers; The mystic shapes that by thy margin rove A more benignant sacrifice approve-- A mind, that, in a calm angelic mood Of happy wisdom, meditating good, Beholds, of all from her high powers required, Much done, and much designed, and more desired,-- Harmonious thoughts, a soul by truth refined, Entire affection for all human kind.
In a sonnet, Wordsworth implies that "The River Duddon" is equal in beauty to Horace's spring:
Not envying Latian shades--if yet they throw A grateful coolness round that crystal Spring, Blandusia, prattling as when long ago The Sabine Bard was moved her praise to sing; Careless of flowers that in perennial blow Round the moist marge of Persian fountains cling; Heedless of Alpine torrents thundering Through ice-built arches radiant as heaven's bow; I seek the birthplace of a native Stream.-- All hail, ye mountains! hail, thou morning light! Better to breathe at large on this clear height Than toil in needless sleep from dream to dream: Pure flow the verse, pure, vigorous, free, and bright, For Duddon, long-loved Duddon, is my theme!
In lines 255 ff. of his "Musings near Aquapendente" (part 1 of his "Memorials of a Tour in Italy, 1837"), Wordsworth also refers to Horace, Ode 3.13:
Or Sabine vales explored inspire a wish To meet the shade of Horace by the side Of his Bandusian fount; or I invoke His presence to point out the spot where once He sate, and eulogized with earnest pen Peace, leisure, freedom, moderate desires; And all the immunities of rural life Extolled, behind Vacuna's crumbling fane.
The English poet Walter Savage Landor (1775-1864), in some Latin verses addressed "Ad Haedum" ("To a Goat") published in the collection Dry Sticks Fagoted (1858), wrote: "You will be safe with me, little goat! Your blood will not flow for any Bandusia" (per me salvus es, haedule! / nulli Bandusiae cruor / manabit tuus).
Bandusian spring, more gaily bright, In thy never-ceasing birth, Than gem compact of solar light, That, fetter'd long in darksome earth, Leaps forth to greet a kindred ray-- Thou art worth a Poet's lay. Flowers--them we will not give,-- Thou hast plenty of thy own; Little lambkins;--let them live, Thou wert loth to hear them moan; Let them frisk upon thy bourn, And in thee view the budding horn. Well I know, an ancient Poet Promised thee a kid to-morrow-- I, a Christian Bard, well know it,-- If he paid it, 'twas thy sorrow:-- But he never did the thing Which he was constrain'd to sing. Poet he, that would have been A Christian Poet if he could,-- One that felt far more, I ween, Than he ever understood,-- One that only wanted telling The truth that in his heart was dwelling. Bandusian fount! I know not thee, And learned critics much are troubled, To find, if yet a stream there be, Where, long of yore, thy waters bubbled, And I could almost wish there were not, Since all who loved thee dearly are not. The barren rocks are still the same-- The fertile streams are changing ever, So, lives, in nature's endless fame, The Carthiginian's vain endeavour-- But, Horace, we can only guess The sweet home of thy happiness. Yet fare thee well, thou lovely spring, And never may thy nymphs desert thee, For while one Bard on earth may sing, Not all the powers of earth can hurt thee: And tho' no lamb to thee we give, Blest shalt thou be as long as lambkins live.
O fountain meet for flowers and wine, Bandusia, more than mirror bright, A kid to-morrow shall be thine Whose forehead augurs love's delight, And battle's, by the bursting horn; But vainly: ere the sun be high, His blood, although so wanton-born, Thy cooling streams with red shall dye. Thee never doth the Dog-star strike At fiercest: to plough-wearied ox Thy cool, refreshing touch alike Thou lendest, and to ranging flocks. Thee too with fame my Muse shall bless, Still singing how the ilex bends O'er the deep-hollowed cave's recess, From whence thy babbling stream descends.
In the following translation, published in The Classical Museum 4 (1847) 349, the English poet Arthur Hugh Clough (1819-1861) approximated the original meter of Horace's ode:
O more than crystal bright, Bandusian Spring,
Worthy sweet wine, with flowers withal the morn
A kidling thee shall bring,
Whose front of budding horns
E'en now encounter lustful or of fight
Premeditates! unwitting! thy cold streams
With the red blood shall tinge
The youngling of the goats.
Thee the hot noon of Dogstar flaming fierce,
Knows not to touch: from thee delicious cool,
Bulls wearied from the share
Receive, and wandering herds.
Of the famed fountains thee too one shall make
Thy poet's verse, that tells thine ilex crowning
The impendent rocks, from whence
Thy babbling waters leap.
Bandusia's fount, in clearness crystalline,
O worthy of the wine, the flowers we vow!
To-morrow shall be thine
A kid, whose crescent brow
Is sprouting all for love and victory.
In vain: his warm red blood, so early stirr'd,
Thy gelid stream shall dye,
Child of the wanton herd.
Thee the fierce Sirian star, to madness fired,
Forbears to touch: sweet cool thy waters yield
To ox with ploughing tired,
And lazy sheep afield.
Thou too one day shalt win proud eminence
'Mid honour'd founts, while I the ilex sing
Crowning the cavern, whence
Thy babbling wavelets spring.
Bandusia, stainless mirror of the sky!
Thine is the flower-crown'd bowl, for thee shall die,
When dawns yon sun, the kid;
Whose horns, half-seen, half-hid,
Challenge to dalliance or to strife -- in vain!
Soon must the firstling of the wild herd be slain,
And those cold springs of thine
With blood incarnadine.
Fierce glows the Dogstar, but his fiery beam
Toucheth not thee: still grateful thy cool stream
To labour-wearied ox,
Or wanderer from the flocks:
And henceforth thou shalt be a royal fountain:
My harp shall tell how from yon cavernous mountain,
Where the brown oak grows tallest,
All babblingly thou fallest.
The English poet Austin Dobson (1840-1921) translated Horace's ode in the form of a rondeau:
O babbling Spring, than glass more clear,
Worthy of wreath and cup sincere,
To-morrow shall a kid be thine
With swelled and sprouting brows for sign --
Sure sign! -- of loves and battles near.
Child of the race that butt and rear!
Not less, alas! his life-blood dear
Must tinge thy cold wave crystalline,
O babbling Spring!
Thee Sirius knows not. Thou dost cheer
With pleasant cool the plough-worn steer,
The wandering flock. This verse of mine
Will rank thee one with founts divine;
Men shall thy rock and tree revere,
O babbling Spring!
In Echoes from the Sabine Farm (NY: Charles Scribner's Sons, 1920), there are two translations of Horace's Ode 3.13, one by American poet and journalist Eugene Field (1850-1895) and the other by his brother Roswell Martin Field.
In the introduction to this book (p. ix), Francis Wilson mistakenly says, "Fields's favorite ode was the Bandusian Spring, the paraphrasing of which in the styles of the various writers of different periods gave him genuine joy and is perhaps the choice bit of the collection." It was in fact Horace's Ode 1.23 (not 3.13) that Field paraphrased in different styles.
Here is the translation by Eugene Field:
O fountain of Bandusia! Whence crystal waters flow, With garlands gay and wine I’ll pay The sacrifice I owe; A sportive kid with budding horns I have, whose crimson blood Anon shall dye and sanctify Thy cool and babbling flood. O fountain of Bandusia! The Dog-star’s hateful spell No evil brings into the springs That from thy bosom well; Here oxen, wearied by the plow, The roving cattle here Hasten in quest of certain rest, And quaff thy gracious cheer. O fountain of Bandusia! Ennobled shalt thou be, For I shall sing the joys that spring Beneath yon ilex-tree. Yes, fountain of Bandusia, Posterity shall know The cooling brooks that from thy nooks Singing and dancing go.
Here is the translation by Roswell Martin Field:
O fountain of Bandusia! more glittering than glass, And worthy of the pleasant wine and toasts that freely pass; More worthy of the flowers with which thou modestly are hid, To-morrow willing hands shall sacrifice to thee a kid. In vain the glory of the brow where proudly swell above The growing horns, significant of battle and of love; For in thy honor he shall die,--the offspring of the herd,-- And with his crimson life-blood thy cold waters shall be stirred. The Dog-star's cruel season, with its fierce and blazing heat, Has never sent its scorching rays into thy glad retreat; The oxen, wearied with the plow, the herd which wanders near, Have found a grateful respite and delicious coolness here. When of the graceful ilex on the hollow rocks I sing, Thou shalt become illustrious, O sweet Bandusian spring! Among the noble fountains which have been enshrined in fame, Thy dancing, babbling waters shall in song our homage claim.
O fount of Bandusia, than crystal more clear,
Worthy of honey-sweet, flower-crowned wine,
To-morrow thou'lt be given a young kid of mine,
Whose forehead with first horns near,
Budding, doth seem to predestinate the shock
Of battles as well as sweet Venus -- in vain,
For with his red blood thy cold streams he will stain,
This scion of gamesome flock.
The dog-star's fell season that burns doth not know
How to touch thee, for thou thy cold gifts dost not spare
To offer to oxen weighed down by the share,
And cattle that wandering go.
Among noble fountains thou also shalt shine,
I singing the ilex that rooted doth grow
From the cavernous rocks whence downward flow
Those chattering waves of thine.
O well whose waters are as glass to shine, Bandusia, worthy vintage to be shed, And not without a flower visited, A kid with swelling brow to-morrow is thine, Whose horns to war and wantonness destine. In vain; in vain, for his dark blood shall spread Child of the frolic fold, in thy chill bed; When the hot Dog-star's hours to rage incline, They pierce thee not, that profferest pleasant cold To flocks that range, and labour-weary bulls; Thou too from all time forward shalt be told Great among wells of name, by me that sing The ilex shadowing thy stone-bound spring Whence issue all the tumult of thy pools.
In his urbane travelogue Old Calabria (1915), British writer Norman Douglas (1868-1952) devoted an entire chapter to his search for "The Bandusian Fount". The chapter is too long to quote in its entirety, but here are the final two paragraphs:
But whether this at San Gervasio is the actual fountain hymned by Horace -- ah, that is quite another affair! Few poets, to be sure, have clung more tenaciously to the memories of their childhood than did he and Virgil. And yet, the whole scene may be a figment of his imagination -- the very word Bandusia may have been coined by him. Who can tell? Then there is the Digentia hypothesis. I know it, I know it! I have read some of its defenders, and consider (entre nous) that they have made out a pretty strong case. But I am not in the mood for discussing their proposition -- not just now.
Here at San Gervasio I prefer to think only of the Roman singer, so sanely jovial, and of these waters as they flowed, limpid and cool, in the days when they fired his boyish fancy. Deliberately I refuse to hear the charmer Boissier. Deliberately, moreover, I shut my eyes to the present condition of affairs; to the herd of squabbling laundresses and those other incongruities that spoil the ancient scene. Why not? The timid alone are scared by microscopic discords of time and place. The sage can invest his prosaic water-trough with all its pristine dignity and romance by an unfailing expedient. He closes an eye. It is an art he learns early in life; a simple art, and one that greatly conduces to happiness. The ever alert, the conscientiously wakeful -- how many fine things they fail to see! Horace knew the wisdom of being genially unwise; of closing betimes an eye, or an ear; or both. Desipere in loco....
The Bandusian spring becomes a soda fountain in this delightful parody by American man of letters Franklin P. Adams (1881-1960), published in his collection of light verse Something Else Again (1920) under the title "What Flavour?":
Worthy of flowers and syrups sweet, O fountain of Bandusian onyx, To-morrow shall a goatling's bleat Mix with the sizz of thy carbonics. A kid whose budding horns portend A life of love and war--but vainly! For thee his sanguine life shall end-- He'll spill his blood, to put it plainly. And never shalt thou feel the heat That blazes in the days of Sirius, But men shall quaff thy soda sweet, And girls imbibe thy drinks delirious. Fountain whose dulcet cool I sing, Be thou immortal by this Ode (a Not wholly metricious thing), Bandusian fount of ice-cream soda!
Irish poet and novelist James Joyce (1882-1941) translated Horace's ode thus:
Brighter than glass Bandusian spring For mellow wine and flowers meet, The morrow thee a kid shall bring Boding of rivalry and sweet Love in his swelling forms. In vain He, wanton offspring, deep shall stain Thy clear cold streams with crimson rain. The raging dog star's season thou, Still safe from in the heat of day, When oxen weary of the plough Yieldst thankful cool for herds that stray. Be of the noble founts! I sing The oak tree o'er thine echoing Crags, thy waters murmuring.
One of the imaginary conversations in R.C. Trevelyan's Translations from Horace, Juvenal & Montaigne. With Two Imaginary Conversations (Cambridge: University Press, 1940) is entitled "Fons Bandusiae" (pp. 163-172). The interlocutors are Horace and Tibullus. But the Bandusian spring is just a backdrop for the conversation, which is mostly about Vergil's poetry and Tibullus' love affair with Delia.
There is a choral setting of this ode by American composer Randall Thompson (1899-1984), and a setting for voice and piano (to a translation by R.A.K. Mason) written in 1946 by New Zealand composer Douglas Gordon Lilburn (1915-2001).