Vergil’s 9th Eclogue


L: Feet got you going, Moeris? How does the way take you, into town?

M: Well Lycidas, we made it through alive, so that a stranger trying
(which is never cause for concern to me) to master my field, should’ve
said: ‘These things are my stuff; move abroad, you old settlers!’
Now do we get these flocks going, in our defeat, humbled — which
might not go so well — because Fate causes all things to turn.

L: Really, I heard for sure — where the hills start to turn to rolling,
and send the mountain-ridge off at a soft slope, on to the water
front and old time beech (now breaking at peaks) trees — that
your boy Menalcas plays by the rules in his compositions.

M: You heard it here, & it was famed: but our tunes do so well,
Lycidas, among the arms of Mars, as well as what people
do call doves from Chaon, with the eagle arriving. As the crow
was warning me from the evergreen oak not to fall, in any way,
into clever legalese before the hung jury, so neither will
Moeris, nor even Menalcas himself, let you live off of here. . . .

L: Oh no! Did such an evil deed happen to anyone? Too bad! Were
your comforts taken from us nearly right off with you, Menalcas?
So that someone might set the Nymphs to singing? Who would sprinkle
flowering plants on the earth, or bring shade from the verdant source
of the stream? Or your poems which I recently had a peek at,
should you take them with you to my own favorite Amaryllis?
“Tityrus, please put the lambs to pasture (It’s a short way.) while I’m on my
way back; once fed, take them to stream, Tityrus, and watch out for the
boar (which does go wild in the glen) in the midst of heading to meet one.”

M: Alright, & what Varo was singing, albeit unfinished, goes: “Varo,
only our native Mantua should surpass your own name,
poor Mantua too close to lowly Cremona, as singing
swans head to the heavens in sublime fashion.”

L: Just as your flocks flee from the Corsican yew, as the pastured
herd of cattle, when fed on clover, does swell at the udder,
so begin, if you have any starting point. And the Muses made me
a poet; the songs are mine too: the shepherds, they also
call me a prophetic seer, but I don’t buy it from them — for neither
did I seem so to Varius yet, nor to say things appropriate for Cinna,
rather as the goose resounding among conspicuous, the swans.

M: Really, that’s what I’m doing, and considering such to myself in
silence, whether or not I can even remember; it’s not such an unpopular
song: “Here you are, oh Galatea — now what kind of game is upon
the waves’ deep? Now shining spring-time, now the very earth pour
diverse flowers about the stream; here the brilliant poplar impends
over a cave, & the light vines do intertwine with shaded alcoves.
There you are — let the crazy rushing waters rage along the shore.”

L: Why, what poems did I hear you singing alone under the naked
night? I remember the tune, if I still have the words right: “Daphnis,
why don’t you respect the age-old origin of symbols? Look, at
the morning star of Caesar’s love goddess, the star in which
the crops rejoice with flowering plants, and by which the vine
deploys its coloring upon sun-drenched ridges. Plant the
pear trees, Daphnis: your young ones are picking the apples.”

M: Summer’s age moves everything, including the mind — I recall
how often I kept watch over lengthening sunshine days as a boy chanting:
so many of my songs are forgotten already that even one’s voice now retreats
from Moeris: the vanguard of wolves are looking at Moeris. But
still, Menalcas should’ve offered you these answers often enough.

L: You’re leading my desirable loves a long way off, making excuses.
And currently every level field lies open to you in silence, & look,
all the wind-swept airs of heaven have landed with a mild roar.
That’s why our way is so far in between, since it started to make its
appearance with Bion’s memorial marker. Here, where the farmers
put the crowding branches and bushes together, right here, Moeris,
do we sing: leave the kids here all the same — we’re still going to town.
Or, if we’re afraid that night-time may muster a rainstorm beforehand,
then let’s go sing verses as long as one can (The shorter way’s a pain.)
get away with it: to go singing as we go, I’ll relieve you by this torch.

M: No more, young man, do cease what we are doing that’s coming up now.
Let us recite verses even better in song, when the poet will have arrived!

Vergil’s 2nd Eclogue

Corydon the shepherd used to be burning for hand-
some Alexis, & was missing what he wanted; so he kept heading
out again among the crowding beech-trees, the shaded mountain-
tops. Right there & then did he toss off these disorderly words,
by himself, to the hills and woods of an empty zeal:
“Oh heartless Alex, do you care not at all for my songs?
You have no pity on me? Then you’re going to make me die!
Now the sheep also seize the shadows and chills; now
the thorn bushes also abscond the chartreuse lizards;
Thestylis, too, in the sweltering heat — given the reapers[10
at rest — she mixes in thyme with other savory herbs.
But along with me under the burning sunlight, while I
illuminate your signs, do the trees resound with cicadas.
Was it not enough to suffer the wrath of sad Amaryllis and
the condescending compliments, wasn’t it Menalcas, to
want that boy as black as you are pale? Dear shapely
young man, don’t put too much faith in color’s shade!
The white privets fade, with dark hyacinths picked.
You/I hate you, me! — not who you want, Alexis, for
being rich in flocks, loaded with snowy white milk. A[20
thousand of my lambs do wander about in the Sicilian high-
lands; my milk is not bitter in summer, nor lacking in cold;
I recite what I’m accustomed to sing: since indeed he called
to the herd, Amphion of Dirce at Attic Aracynthus. It’s not
like I’m so misshapen: I saw myself in a pool recently,
since the sea came gentle on the breeze; I’m not afraid of
you sitting in judgment, Daphnis, if the image never errs.
Oh, how should it please you, along with me, to live in
shabby country abode and lowly houses, and strike stags,
and force the flock of lambs to pallid marshmallow plants![30

Do make like Pan singing together with me among the trees.
Pan was the first to invent how to unite a bunch of reeds
with wax; Pan, who takes care of the sheep and lords of the
flock. Don’t let it bother you, chafing your lip on a
pipe: so you may know the same things, why wasn’t Amyntas
doing them? I have a pipe composed of seven fretted flutes that
Damoetas gave to me some time ago: his dying words were,
‘Now that kind of woman currently holds you secondary.’
Damoetas said it; struck dumb, Amyntas gave him evil eye.
What’s more, two goats which I discovered in a less than safe[40
valley, with pelts still speckled white even now, they have
been dry of udder two days yet; I am tending them for you:
actually, Thestylis is now saying that I had abducted them;
and he will make good on it, since you find my services un-
tidy. Here you are, you shapely young man: the Nymphs,
just look!, bear lilies for you in loaded baskets; fair Nais,
your girl, plucking the pale violets and lofty poppies, does
combine narcissus flower and that of sweetly smelling anise;
then, weaving mezereon with other soft-scented shrubbery,
does tender hyacinth embroider the tawny hued marigold.[50

Myself, I shall pick apples gleaming with soft, light down, and
chestnuts, the ones my dear Amaryllis used to adore; I’ll
supplement it with plums light as beeswax: this fruit will be
a badge of honor too: and I’ll pluck you, oh you laurels, and you
too, neighboring myrtle blossom, since you mingle odors so
sweet. You’re a country bumpkin, Corydon: Alexis likes not your
offerings, & Iollas yields one’s place not, if you disagree about
our positions. Oh no!, what did I want for my pathetic state?
Lost, I launched the wind into flowers, boar to foaming springs.
Whom do you run from, crazyass? The gods dwell in the forest[60
too, as does Paris from Troy. Let Athena abide by those citadels
which she established; the woods please us better than every, all.
The golden lioness is pursuing the wolf; the wolf itself follows
the she-goat; the naughty lamb goes after the flowering clover;
Corydon’s after you, Alexis: one’s own pleasure pulls each a way.
Look here, plows do bear the yoke lifted over the young cow,
as the sun, when departing, mirrors the crescendo of shadows;
nonetheless love cinges me: now what way is there for love?

‘Oh Corydon, Don-Cory, what madness seized control of you!’

Half-pruned, a leafy stalk is upon the elm tree; weren’t you[70
at least getting ready rather to uncover something of those
practicality requires, with branches green and soft rushes?
You’ll find another man, if he looks down on you, Alex.”

Vergil’s 5th Eclogue


Why don’t we both, Mopsus, be right on, since we got together —
you, by blowing on your light reed-flute, while I recite
lines: shall we sit here among the elms mixed with hazels?

You are the greater, elder: it’s your job to make me equal to the task,
Menalcas, whether we come under the west winds as they stir up
uncertain shadows, or rather head to a cave: look at how the wild vine,
in the woodlands, scatters scant bunches of grapes about the cavern.

Amyntas is the only man to challenge you among our mountain peaks.

Why, what if he should overcome Phoebus Apollo in singing verses?!

Start first, Mopsus, if you have the fires of Phyllis, or[10
praise of Alco, or a rivalry with Codrus:
begin, ‘Tityrus will tend to the kids feeding…’

Actually, I jotted down these songs upon verdant bark of the
beech-tree recently, and did note this in changing the tune —
as I tried, so must you demand that Amyntas should compete.

As pliant willow yields to the pale olive tree,
as humble Asarum to purplish roses, is how much
Amyntas gives way to you, in my judgment.
You must give a lot up, boy; we’ve come to the cave.

The nymphs were bewailing Daphnis, snuffed out by a heart-[20
less death; you are a witness to the hazel and with respect
to the nymphs’ streams: for taking hold the pitiable
body of her own son, does fierce mother swear on the gods,
by the stars. Not a cow to take, oh Daphnis, along the
chilled streams for pasturing these days, no beasts of burden
have sipped the river, none to touch the growing blades.
Daphnis, the wild woods and savage peaks declare that
even the lions of Carthage bewailed your passing.
Daphnis made it a custom to drive Turkish tigers at chariot;
Daphnis did institute the ceremonial wands of Bachhus,[30
and wind slender spear with soft ivy green. As the
vine is glory to trees, as grapes grace the vines —
like the bulls with the flocks, just as crops for anointed altars,
so are you a guiding light to your own. After the fates took you,
did Pales the goddess and Apollo himself abandon the fields.
The barley by which we are fed is often plenty enough in the garden —
unfortunate darnel and infertile oats are produced: instead of
soft violet flower, rather than indigo narcissus,
the thistle and Christ’s thorn do arise of prickly spines.
Water the soil with foliage, go introduce your shadow to the springs,[40
you shepherds, should Daphnis command such affairs for his own
self — and build up a burial mound, & add this verse to the grave:
“I, Daphnis, will have been noted henceforth in the woods, on up
to the stars: oneself, a lovelier guardian for fine-looking flock.”

Such a song in verse as yours, oh holy poet, is
like slumber in the grass for the exhausted, like
the rushing of tasty waters to quench one’s thirst
through undulating stream: and you are not up to the task
on a reed-flute alone, but with the voice of masters.
Lucky young man, now you will be second only to that[50
famed poet. All the same will we recite these poems of ours
in whatever manner are yours, and raise your dear
Daphnis on up to the stars; we shall take him
even to stars: Daphnis was well-loved by me too.

Well if we found anything greater than such an offering,
then the young lad was worthy for singing, as well did
Stimicho praise those poems of ours some time ago.

The resplendent man marvels at the unfamiliar gate of Olympus,
with Daphnis up from the threshold looking at clouds and stars.
So a vivacious pleasure does cling to the forest’s trees, and
other country matters, as well as Pan and the shepherds, and the
wood-nymph girls; neither is the wolf considering plots for a flock,[60
nor do any hunting nets plot a stratagem for the deer: kind Daphnis is
in love with leisure. The rustic mountains themselves, they do
toss voices to the heavens in happiness; now do the very caves sing
verses, bristly trees resound: “God, the famed god, Menalcas!”
Oh, be noble and found lucky of your own. There are four altars, see:
look, two for you, Daphnis, with paired altars dedicated to Phoebus.
I dedicate twin goblets dripping with fresh milk the year-long, and
double fine jugs for your olive oil, & with a great rush right from
the start, delighting the revels for Bacchus, — right before the
hearth if it’s cold, and if summer, in the shade — will I offer[70
divine wine from Chios, poured from mixing bowls. Damoetas
and Aegon of Crete will recite lyrics for me; Alphesiboeus,
to make like the two-stepping satyrs. These things will
always be like this for you, both when return we pious offerings
sacred to the Nymphs, and when we shall the fields cleanse.
As long as the boar tends to hill-top peaks, long as the fish still
loves the deep, and while bees do feed upon thyme, as the cicadas
at murmur, will your your fame and name and compliments endure;
as with Bacchus and Ceres, so too will the farmers make you
annual offerings: you also shall condemn such by vows.[80

What’s it to you, that I should requite such a performance with presents?
For neither will the bluster of the south wind rushing in please me,
nor the shores battered by billowing wave help me so, no
streams rushing here & there from stony valleys.

We will dedicate this precious pipe to you beforehand:
this one taught us, “Corydon was burning for hand-
some Alex,” and also, “Whose flock, is it Meliboeus?”

Well then take your shepherd’s crook, which Antigenes did not get, even
though he often asked me for it (& he had reason for being bitter.), a
lovely looking staff with fine handles and bronze to match, Menalcas.[90

Gregory of Tours, The Patient Impassioned Suffering of the Seven Sleepers of Ephesus

1. With Christian persecutions and idol worship the world over, seven noblemen were in the palace of the King at whose petty sins of ordering God to be worshipped through lifeless images they felt divine remorse and converted; after their baptism were they renamed. When Decius came to Ephesus, he ordered that Christians be persecuted to the elimination, if possible, of their faith. He burned them amidst their pleas and fear. They burned victims and the whole city went dark with fumes. The seven champions for Christ fell crying with dust pouring over their head, begging pity of God looking down from heaven that he not, in being conquered, let his people die like this.

2. When this was discovered, enemies to the Christian name went & told the Princeps: “The command of your realm, oh King, has gone throughout the world and none dare go against your rule; all offer daily sacrifice to the immortal gods — except for seven men whom you especially are fond of and adore.” The imperial commander said: “And who are these?” They replied, Maximian the son of a local magistrate & his companions.” The emperor was furious and the men were brought in chains before him with tearful looks and dirt upon their heads as they had been when praying in God’s sight. The Emperor saw them and said: “Has such great treachery of your guilty mind taken hold of that you dare defy our will and do not offer due sacrifice to the immortal gods? I say to you, by my glory: And we know about different types of torture.” The men replied: “God himself created the sky and earth & sea, we give him sacrifice everyday in praise and for his name are we prepared to die. But the powers which you urge we should adore in the name of the gods, we know do not exist at all. Because lewd statues, since they are adorned by the art of the artisans, are able to take no use of animating them, and so even those who love them are condemned by divine law that the makers become like the doers as they’re their lovers.”

3. Then the Emperor in a rage said to them all taken aback: “Be gone you scoundrels! Until you pay the price for the crime of this insult in our palace and are reconciled by the pity of the gods, you enjoy the bloom of youth. Because it is wrong that torments be applied to such charming beauty of body.” And with the iron wrenched from their neck, he ordered them to depart as free men until he himself should return to Ephesus. And so with this exception granted as favor in departing, the seven men (while the Emperor goes to another town) go home where a guard was at watch, grab their gold and silver, clothes and all of their furnishing. When this is given to the poor, they go off into a cave on Mt. Celion, carrying a little change for the necessities of life and they select Malchus to go in secret to the city to buy food and discern what the Emperor decided about his daily edict on Christians.

4. Then with the Saints under guard in prison each, and the most wicked Emperor talking constantly to the idle, returned to Ephesus and with the Christians seized for questioning as usual, he asked about Maximian and his family. The parents said that they were shut up in a cave on Mt. Celion, from which they could easily be dug up if there was a royal command of the Emperor. When the men learned this (Malchus told them), they were so scared they threw themselves to the ground and cried out with tears that god, as their protector in faith keep them from the sight of the most unjust Emperor. When they said this, god foresaw that they were in need of [assistance]; he heard their prayer and took up their souls; & lying on the earth they sleep sweet in slumber.

5. Then the angry Emperor snapped at his men: “Come and close the cavern’s mouth so those rising up to disobey the gods have no way to leave!” And two Christians, Theodore and Ruben went ahead of the men who were supposed to block up the cave’s opening and they secretly prayed to Christ about the Emperor’s threats. These men wrote on some heavy stones the whole history of the Saints, placed them just inside the entrance to the cave with no one’s knowledge and said: “When ever God wants to show the peoples the holy incense of his own athletic champions so they might teach these things they suffered them in his name.” And when arriving, those who had been sent and who roll forward great big stones closed off the cave’s ingress and departed saying, “Let them die here starving and eat themselves up as their own food: Those who hated and refused to pour our gods the proper ceremonial offerings.”

6. After this, when Decius was dead, through generations following, the highest Imperial power was bestowed upon Theodosius, Arcadius’ son, in whose era the filthy sect of the Sadduccees wanted to turn aside the hope of resurrection, (justified their claim) saying, “Because: The dead don’t rise again.” Theodore and Gaius the patriarchs, as the head of this heresy, even wanted their Emperor’s very soul to join them in this faithlessness. And so did it happen that on this account was the Emperor so stricken and brought low down to earth, he begged the Lord that whatever should follow, let it come on as he deserved. Then was Dalius at Ephesus who had a great herd of flocks he was tending on Mt. Celion and ordered his serving boys: “Prepare a fold for our sheep, because this is a real good place for our flocks to graze.” But he didn’t know what was going on in the cave. While the lads were performing their task and rolled back the massive rocks, they came to the mouth of a cavern and found great big stones which they removed and made a wall, but did not go inside the cave.

7. Then the Lord ordered the life’s spirits to be returned into the bodies of the saints and they rose up and greeted each other as usual — thinking they had slept one full night — they sat up in good spirits and strength. Well, not only were their bodies charming and gorgeous, but even their clothes were entirely unscathed just as many years before they had been covered in them. They turned to Malchus and said: “Say, what are we, our brother; what did the Emperor say tonight? Are we being sought out? Tell, so we may know.” He said to them, “You are looked and asked for to sacrifice to gods.” & Maximian told him: “We all are ready to die for Christ. But take our money & go buy us some food and listen carefully: Bring back what news you hear to us.” And so he took the money and left with silver coins inscribed in the name of Decius. When he came near the town gate, he saw the sign of the cross above and was struck dumb with amazement, saying to himself: “But how, from yesterday after the sun set when I left the city, has Decius’ heart changed; so that he strengthened the gate with cross’s sign?” He entered the city, heard men proclaiming Jesus’ name and saw a church and priests running through town, the walls made newly strong — and even more amazed — he spoke he himself, You think it’s, you entered another town? And strolling through the market held on each ninth day, he brought up his silver coins, praying food be given him.

8. But when they saw the silver coins, they said: “This man has found an ancient treasure trove; and he’s got silver from Decius’ times!” As Malchus heard this, he turned thoughts about in his heart, saying, “What do they covet these old things for? Is it possible I’m watching a dream?” But some men grabbed him and led to the bishop Marinus and to the city’s Prefect of police. He said to him: “Where are you from; or what area have you come from?” He said, “From Ephesus: But isn’t this city the Ephesians’ which I recall I saw yesterday?” “The silver coins you hold,” said the Prefect: “Where did you get them?” He replied, “I got them from my father’s home.” The Prefect said: “And where’s your father?” & he named his parents, but none recognized. The Prefect said “Tell us where you got these pieces of silver: They are from Decius’ time, & he is dead for many years. Clearly from somewhere, since you have come to trick the wisemen of Ephesus, and so will you suffer under torture until you disclose the truth.” Malchus was terrified to silence and said through tears, “I want to beg one piece of proof from you, if you think it worth: The Emperor Decius, who persecutes Christians in this town, where is he? The bishop Marinus replied: “He’s not in this city, most beloved — my child, a man who recalls anew the times of Decius: For he’s been settled & gone for many years before.”

9. Hearing this, Malchus — talking to himself — told the bishop “I thought I had slept with my brothers for but a single night; but as I now find out, the heavens have passed a great many years above our slumber. And now has the Lord ordained me with my brethren so he may teach every generation, because the re-arising of the dead has come to be: Therefore, follow me and I will show my brothers to you, who have been resurrected with me.” While Malchus was telling his brethren what happened to him in the city, the bishop entered and found the chest sealed by two silver signs; he stepped outside and, calling on the city’s multitude along with the Prefect, opened the seals & found two lead writing-tablets in which was written the whole story of their suffering just as we retold above; they recognized, because the things were true, what they were told by Malchus.

10. Then did they find the blessed Martyrs sitting in a corner of the cave with their faces so flowery red and shining like the sun in righteousness, since nothing had been taken away, either of their clothing, or from their bodies. Moreover, the bishop Marinus fell before their feet with the Prefect and did honor them & the whole crowd glorified God, who is worthy showing such a blessed miracle to his servants. The Saints related in truth to the bishop and all the folks what had happened in Decius’ era. True, the bishop and Prefect sent messengers to tell the Emperor Theodosius: Celebrate as soon as now! You can if you want to see incredible miracle which is revealed by God presenting to your generations in time. If you do come, you will know the hope of resurrection is practicable in truth, just like the guarantee of his Ministry’s promise.

11. The Emperor Theodosius heard this & leapt for joy and said, stretching out his hand to God, I thank you Lord, Jesus Christ, you son of justice who are worthy of sprinkling the mortals’ shadows with the with the light of your truth; I give you thanks, who did not permit your lamp of my thanks-giving in praise to be taken from the lands by the shades of doubtful words. And saying these, his horses were spurred on in the highest haste went he to Ephesus. But the bishop with the Prefect and the whole population of the city departed to meet the Emperor; & while they all climbed up the saintly Martyrs went out to the august Father’s path and their faces became like as the sun shining in virtuousness; Augustus [the Emperor] fell to the earth and glorified them to worship God. & rising up, he kissed them and wept upon their shoulder & one of them said, “So I see your faces just as if I saw Jesus Christ, my Lord when he called Lazarus from the tomb; I give boundless thanks to him because he did not deceive me in hoping for eternal life.

12. Then Maximian replied, “Emperor, please know that Lord ordered us to arise again for strengthening your faith. Therefore understand believing always in him, because the resurrection of the dead will occur as you see us testify after our resurrection with you, and narrate the great works of God.” People said a lot of other things along with him, but they lay down again and slept upon the earth, handing their souls to the undying King and god All-powerful. The Emperor saw these things, fell upon them and crying, kissed them; brought his own clothes & placed them over these saints and ordered golden coffins to be made that they be hidden in. But on this night the Saints appeared to him and said: Don’t do it; leave us above the ground instead: From it the lord God will awaken us on the great day of Resurrection for all flesh. Then the Emperor constructed them a marvelous churchall and there made a place of refuge for the needy & poor, commanding that they feed from the public’s store. And when the bishops were called together, he celebrated a glorious Holy Day of the Saints and everyone worshipped God whose honor unflawed is in the Trinity and grace for centuries of generations. Amen.

William of Tyre, Preface


WILLIAM, unworthy servant of the holy Church at Tyre by the patience of God, to his brothers beloved in Christ, whom the present work comes to stating that eternal salvation is in the Lord.

That it is dangerous, and a sizeable gamble, to describe the achievements of kings there can be no one of sense who would doubt. But let us dismiss inwardly the work, continual zeal, years of nightwatches for those whose business is accustomed to require it — there is a certain, double danger threatening writers of history: to make scarce with these results in their being able to bring down one another. Since in fleeing Charybdis, they run into Scylla, who is surrounded by dogs, and knows no less how to manage to wreck ships. Or since they proceed with the truth of achievements accomplished, they arouse a lot of ill-will against themselves; or, to alleviate the outrage, they abscond a series of events in which there is certainly the presence of their faults. No, to studiously go through the truth of facts and hide things out of busyness is considered unworthy of their duty. However, to shirk that responsibility headlong entirely in doubt is wrong; though if it is with accuracy it is said that, “Service is an act commensurate with each individual according to customs and principles of the homeland.” So, pursuing the untainted chronology of events accomplished without violating the rule of truth is often a matter which is in the habit of inciting controversy, like that old-time saying which is customarily stated: “Submission brings friends, truth — hatred.” So they either neglect the duty of their occupation, and offer praise undeserved; or, in pursuing the truth of the matter, it will be fitting for them to endure hatred, which is Truth’s mother herself. These things are all too often accustomed to being turned against themselves in this manner, and wound each other with their reciprocal relentlessness. Since, as the saying of our Cicero goes: “Truth is harmful, if indeed hatred is born of it, which is a poison to the soul; but flattery is more harmful, that which indulges in vices, permitting a friend to go in headfirst.”: and he seems to fulfill this, the man who, for the sake of flattery, suppresses the truth against the obligation of official duty. For the lies of those who shamelessly involve themselves in the particulars of events accomplished, out of a zeal for fawning — so loathsome a fact to be believed, — that they ought not be counted amongst the ranks of writers. But if it is contrary to hide the truth of things done, and to fail in one’s capacity as a writer, that would be accounted quite forcefully a sin — to mix up the blemish of lying with true things; and that fails in truth, delivering them together as for the true to future generations’ belief. For these reasons, a fearful decision must habitually take place, no less equal or greater for writers of historical works, that must be avoided with all of one’s strength; meaning, in order that the momentousness of accomplishments bear its own cost for the dryness of the discourse and spareness of eloquence. But words ought to be related to the things they are about; it is not appropriate for a writer’s tongue to fall off from the elegance of more noble material. That is why one must be very cautious that the volume of material not give way to the weakness of convention, and issue a thing too skinny or weak, to the fault of the narrative: something rich and stalwart in its nature. For as the outstanding orator said in the first of the Tusculans: “To send someone your thoughts in letters, who would be able neither to manage nor illustrate them, is not to win a reader over with pleasure ; it is characteristic of someone who violently abuses both letters and leisure.” So this difficulty and increase of danger do we seem to have entered upon, presently. Indeed, in the work which we have before our hands we have put many tales of Kings’ character, and life, and demeanor of the body, whether worthy of praise or subject to being known, just as the series of events that happened seemed to demand; and future generations, in re-reading the affairs of these men will perhaps take it with impatience, and start to ignite their temper against the chronicler beyond what is deserved; or they will report he is hated or a liar and either of these traits (The Lord lives.) do we flee as such an unhealthy affair. Though it is not permitted now to be in doubt about the rest; that which we boldly bring forth to an unequal labor, and which our speech approaches insufficient to the worthiness of matters. There is something which we still lack. For even untutored in paintings, and not yet admitted to the hidden secrets of art, the yellowish colors are spread out first customarily, customary to design the first pages upon which a more judicious hand will be; the method is to supplement its beauty finished with more noble colors. However, at the first, we have lain the foundation with the greatest labor; a foundation by which a wiser builder, the rule of truth having been observed — truth, which we have in no way forsaken — with a noble method will be able to make a more comfortable couch to rest on. So therefore, amidst so many plots of dangerous acts and a decision in doubt, it had been of the whole to be at rest, and a silence was to be observed, and leisure time was publically professed by the pen; but the most insistent love of country was at hand, his homeland for which a man is placed even (if the article of necessity drive it out) clinging to weigh his life in the balance. He stands, I say, even by the authority which outshines; he powerfully perceives these things which have happened for nearly a hundred years, buried in silence — that we not be allowed to be able to feel the inconvenience of oblivion; but things written with a pen in dutiful diligence of position, let them be retained for the memory of the future. Therefore we have been conspicuous, and gave hands to him, whose labor of ours we are not able to deny with sufficient honesty; we are not extremely intent on what posterity will think of us; and why our anemic speech deserves being here amidst such fine material. We have been fairly visible, would that it were as practical as free; that it was as commendable as devotedly: we have been taken in by pleasure of the native soil more than our force repaying us with the work undertaken; we trust not in the creative faculty of genius, but in the heat of sanctified love and sincerity of charitable devotion. Additionally, the order of the Lord, King Almaric (whose holy spirit flowered at rest), who is clear to recollection, his imperative to remembrance famed in the Lord must not be easily dismissed; nor complex seriousness,which in particular compelled us to this very thing, at his behest, while he himself ministered unto the Arabic copies, that there be another History from the time of Muhammad the seducer all the way up to this, which is our year 1184 since the Lord’s Incarnation in the flesh, running after five hundred and seventy years I have written: that its author is quite like the venerable man Seth, son of Patricius, Patriarch of Alexandria. Actually in this, having no outstanding Greek or Arabic writing, learned solely in the traditions, except for the few things which we ourselves saw with faith conspicuous, we have set in order the series of our narrative, taking the beginning from the departure of the strong men, and princes beloved to God — chiefs who left their western kingdoms at God’s calling and claimed the land of promise and nearly all of Syria in hand, unto* themselves: and from there on up to the reign of Lord Baldwin IV, who in the succession of Kings, calculated from the Lord, Duke Godfrey, who first gained power, held the seventh place; we have drawn history across eighty-four years with careful diligence. And so that it not be possible that any insight be missing from a zealous reader as pertains to the rather satisfying state of status in the Easterners’ vicinity, we have taken up in few and concise words at what time and to what extent the holy city had suffered the yoke of slavery; which was the agreement between the enduring believers and the faithless at this very time, and which had become an opportunity so that after so long a period of slavery, the chiefs of the western Kingdoms — roused to liberate them — took upon themselves so great a burden of pilgrimage. But if someone should regard our occupations by whose complexity we are particularly exhausted; then regarding the noble mother-city, cared for by God, of the Tyrians, which we preside over not because of a merited selection, but by the Lord’s sole patience; as well concerning the business of the Lord, King in whose sacred palace we perform worthily as official; and about other needs which come off as greater than what is accustomed: it will be more prone toward the obligatory indulgence should one, by chance, happen upon the present labor by which he would be rather justifiably upset. Because an inward movement of the mind occupied with a great many things, being very weak, is in the habit of coming up for each point needing to be discussed with excess of devotion, and when divided up, is impossible to expend such great care on the individual points — so great it is, the whole inhabiting its own place, uniform in nature, accustomed to fit together the unique and individual studies of zeal. That is when it also rather easily deserves favor. Moreover, we have divided our volume into twenty-three books and marked out each of them with fixed titles, so that for a reader some bit of history will more easily be seen as needed, it happens that: in our having a purpose, with Life as companion, — things which the vicissitude of future events offers then to our own times — holding our intention to add to these things those which we have sent on; and to increase the number of books, in proportion to the amount of material happening. Furthermore, we have it for certain, and this opinion deceives us not, that we bring forth the present work as a witness to our ignorance. And we who are able to lie hidden in silence, we proffer our fault in writing, while the duty — we are embraced by the office of charity; nevertheless we would rather be found away from that charity which inspires, than lack those things it structures. For without that love of God, that is charity, many people enter into marriage, are found worthy of the King’s table; however, he who is found without it amongst his companions deserves to hear: “How do you enter on this without having a marriage garment?” That this not happen to us, let he who alone is able avert it — the pitying and mericful Lord, — do so. Yet, knowing this, “Because grandiloquence is no habit of lacking sin.”, and that the tongue of a miserable man is well lubricated — who easily deserves punishment, we summon, Brother, and exhort our reader in the Lord, so that when he finds the just location of grounds for criticism, — charity’s love of God brought to the fore — that he use it freely, and that he obtain for himself the reward of eternal life from our correction: let him receive it, being mindful of us in his prayers at the Lord’s Kingdom; as we have been somewhat remiss in the present work, let him not charge us unto the tomb, rather let the Savior of the world — whose judgment seat we serve as lowly and worthless slaves in his home — grant indulgence mercifully out of freely bestowed good will and living piety as we fear to excess guilt’s accusation; — we deserve to be afraid.

*or “for”

TS Eliot, from Little Gidding

Cinere manicis senis omnem ut
cinerem rosaria reliquerunt cremata ;
pulvis cum pendatus in aere
loco designavit narrando finem
fabularum : tum respirata,
domus — muri cum tabulis, mure ;
obitus spei et desperationis,
aeris mors haec.

Fuit eluvio et sitis oculis trans-
itis et in ore ; aquae harenaque
mortuae certabant comminus
capitis causa. siccitate,
eviscerata humus hians
vanum laboris intuebitur —
risus cum gaudiis nihil,
terrae mors haec.

Aqua flammaque sequitur
oppidum, pascuum et stirpem.
aqua flammaque inrisit
sacrificia quae nobis negata.
aqua flammaque tabe faciet
fundamenta obliti sumus corrupta
sanctuarii et chori.
mors aquae et ignis haec.

ÆTERNVM VSQVE – by Foo Fighters

mansi ego hic tibi
ætern’ usque…

Hac nocte
ieci me adversum
et de purpureo, ex capite canit

ere, cum me apsume

qua tu voluisti,
turbatus caput: ex capite canit,

cum concinam ego tibi,
omne si quid sensum esse semper
et quod an unquam sit bonum se rursus fit

Solum rogam aliquando te,
promitte ne consiste cum ego “Siste!”

Profla ut
te possum inspirare,

Et nunc
cognosco te fuisse
caput a te, ex me mente canit:

Me mirari
cum concino ego te,
omne si quid sensum esse semper
et quidquam unquam se probum rursus que sit

Solum rogam aliquando te,
promitte ne consiste que dico “Sine.”

omne si quid sensum esse semper
et quod an unquam bonum rursus se possit:

Solum rogo t’ aliquando,
promitte ne consiste cui dic’ “cum…”.