Bridging the Continental divide: neo-Latin and its cultural role in Jacobean Scotland, as seen in the Delitiae Poetarum Scotorum (1637)

  [p171]

Sylva IV: to his brother William, preliminary words concerning the projected war against the Turks

1While the camps hold you submerged in the stormy waves of politics, and fierce discord, alas, which grim Erynnis, greatest of the furies, bore, and the clarion-call drives the noble Scots into battle with its harsh singing, the armed battle-line rouses (wretched to tell) so that it is lawful for the parent to be slaughtered by the savage child: and mother earth is soaked with the luke-warm blood of her children, and we who were far removed from the war and its uproar, who had not yet become accustomed to carrying weapons in our hand, nor at close quarters, carried upon the swift hoof-footed beast, to hurling fiercely the iron spear into the enemy's midst: but we spent all the years of our adolescent age applied to our studies, and we worship the Muses and Minerva, and at peace here we occupied ourselves in worthy arts.

15O, what a life free of cares and fear have the gods granted us in our flourishing years, and what a wretched one to you, steering the axle-tree of the kingdom. Anyone, captured by empty splendour, may think you the only ones who are blest, you whom fortune strives to overthrow wretchedly, should she be jealous of your good undertakings.

21But because neither thought nor the mind are one in all things, Nature teaches the course of character which must be followed: we do not all zealously serve the same studies. This one hunts out divine prophecies from sacred books, not those which once the prophetic sisters uttered, safeguarded by the constant care of the toga-wearing race: but those laws which the overlord of the earth and of highest Olympus granted to the people, revealed from a fire-surging cloud, as the Hebrew fathers truly attest. a This one gazes out at the various parts of the universe, and the brilliant stars of heaven, rising in various configurations. That one, his breast pierced through by Cupid's dart, seduced by the laughing eyes of his mistress in her bridal veils, rejoices to set the sport of Venus to music, and encloses tender love in frolicsome verse.  [p172]This one reads the words of Hippocrates, b this one the divine writings of Plato, and whatever wisdom the ancient masters have written. That one with equal zeal gets by heart the numerous volumes of ancient laws, secure in the greatest honours, and the greatest wealth, that are acquired from this art.

41But eloquent speech, queen of them all, has especially attracted me, the wisdom of ancient Rome thoroughly moving my heart. It is not the commoner of the writers who holds me captive but the prince himself, the choice flower of the people, and the quintessence of persuasion, Tullius, c of an ancient race, from the high blood of a king, whom pious and long-standing posterity and the common opinion of his nation consecrated as the father of eloquence. That speech of his, shining with a wide range of cultivation, pleases, and to no avail the mind looks upon the mouth of the person speaking, whether it addresses friends from sheets elegantly written upon, or teaching the tough Quirites, d in their native language, the principles of the Greeks, or brings Athens to Rome: or standing with high-speaking mouth thunders out the business of the Rostra, e or draws, or draws again, the senate in any direction he wishes; it seems to me it is not a man born of Roman stock, but God, who by his eloquence has ruled the city of Romulus. Often as I read these I am struck with wonder, and by licking I try to make my offspring very similar to his: f as a child I wrote many things, not yet roundly polished, in quality like the marble dug up from the deepest pits which a craftsman has set down in a dwelling but not yet polished with his skill.

62But because my hand, although untrained, was pleasing: and driven by the fraternal love of my natural talent, you were often keen to see the productive cause: I confess that the monuments of my labour are not to be equally long concealed, nor are they to be set down as art, as those (it is said) of Minvera, once kept safe by Phidius: g but let them submit to your visage, and your serene brow: and particularly, in truth, may this productive cause, never beholden to a patron, be sought for itself in your court. I burn to arm Christ-worshipping kings in battle, and to set fire to Turkish bowmen with my words. If such a great love of waging war should keep its hold on you, here, here, is where you should turn your fearless sword and arms,   [p173]o citizens, for neither is there any place better suited to your strength in the world, nor any glory greater. What pleasure is it for madmen to draw weapons into each other's guts, or for mothers at the sad funeral of their children, or to defile the national gods with death-bringing gore? Does no piety, do the powers of the gods, all too knowing of the crime committed, not terrify you? Does no concern for your descendants restrain you? And is it possible to desist from abominable war? Meanwhile, you, the greatest man of our family, be mindful of our fatherland as it was unharmed, and take care to survive our snowy-haired parent: h do not believe that your head is above destruction, or your life above danger. Death spares no-one. Truly, should some dreadful chance snatch you away from us, the state, and the nourishing glory of the Scots, will perish, the sun having been removed: our house, supported by ancient pillars, will fall into destruction, and (alas) the dying eyes of our father, weighed down with old age and fear, will be closed by our hands. Often as a supplicant I beseeched the gods (the night and stars are my witness), so that I may not see these disasters and outlive my nation: and I beseeched the father, powerful in war at such a time of trial, if any mortal cares touch the heavenly deities, that Maja may send down her son, who as a saviour may with his rod scatter the blows and turn them into gentle breezes, and return you safe and sound from the camps. And you too, when at a certain time you give over your body to quiet, when the din of arms and the sound of trumpets falls silent, if, cares being laid aside, there is freedom to rest, read our lines and go on to judge of them, that they be not unbecoming.