IN SCHOLAM MUSICAM ANTONI HOLBORNI |
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| 75. IN SCHOLAM MUSICAM ANTONI HOLBORNI | 75. ON ANTHONY HOLBORNE’S MUSIC SCHOOL | |||
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Quin petis cytharae scholam, iuvenus, Cui nomen Cytherea vestra fecit, Quam vobis aperit catus docendi Holbornus, melicae magister artis? Et qui impubes adhic genasque leves Imberbesque puer refers ephebos, Et cui fortior altioris aevi Currus attigit orbitas virilis, Quin petis cytharae scholam, iuventus? Tuque o dulcacidus puellularum Quae pupas Veneri modo dicarunt Caetus, virgineus chorus, venusta Quin petis cytharae scholam, iuventus? Quid pedes removetis hinc timenteis, Puellique puelluluaeque dulces? Non hic Orbilius sedet magister Hirsutus tetrico tremendus ore, Sed multo ferula magis timendus, Dum dextra quatit imminente virgam, Diram, Iupiter, improbamque virgam, Quae plaga teneram potente pellem Saevum lancinat extrahitque sanguen; Quin petis cytharae scholam, iuventus? Hic nullos ferula aurea repellit, Sed cunctos melica allicit saliva. En hic virgula nulla, praeter illam Quae mulcet cytharae fides sonorae. En hic verbera nulla praeter illa Quae pulsant cytharae fides canorae. En hic murmura nulla, praeter illa Quae reddic Cytharae sonus decorae. Quin petis cytharae scholam, iuventus? Tu cui vapulat aestuante luctu Pectus, anxifero dolore squallens, Si curae est iecoris tibi gravantem Edomare reciprocantis aestum, Quin petis Cytharae scholam iuventus. At tu qui Charites Dicas et Horas, Holborne, allicis attrahace plectro, Argutae fidicen lyrae virentis Reportabis adoream coronae. Si rictu tibi forsitan trifauci Ausit Cerberus oblatrare surdus, Tu vel harmoniae tuae potenti Dentifrangibulo canis ferocis Contundes miseros in ore dentes. At tu musica cui saliva grata est Quin petis cytharae scholam, iuventus? |
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Why not seek out the Cittern School, O youth for whom your Cytherea has made a name, the school which Holborne, adroit at teaching, a master of the lyric art, has opened for you? And you, boy, who still wears the look of the youthful, smooth-cheeked, beardless lads, and you whose swifter, loftier chariot has attained the roads of manhood, why not seek out the Cittern School, O youth? And you too, O bittersweet bevy who have just now dedicated your dolls to Venus, you maidenly chorus, why not seek out Cittern School, O youth? Why draw back your timid feet, you sweet little boys and girls? Here no hairy Master Orbilius sits, fearful for his gloomy expression, but much more fearful for his rod, as he wields the stick with a menacing hand, O Jupiter, a dire and evil stick, which with its mighty blow savagely rends tender skin and draws blood; why not seek out the Cittern School, O youth? Here no golden rod repels you, but the liquid honey attracts you. For here there is no stick, save that which caresses the sonorous cittern’s strings. And here there are no blows, save those which strike the harmonious cittern’s strings. And here there are no murmurs, save those which the sounds which the noble cittern emits. Why not seek out the Cittern School, O youth? You whose heart is scourged with seething grief, wasting away with anxious sorrow, if your care is to tame the oppressive passion of a heart that ebbs and flows, why not seek out the Cittern School, O youth? But you, Holborne, who attracts the Graces, the Dicae, and the Horae with your seductive quill, of a musician of the melodious lute, you will win the prize of a blooming garland. If perchance deaf Cerberus should bark at you with his triple-jawed grin, with the power of your harmony you will break the fierce dog’s wretched teeth in his tooth-breaking mouth. But you to whom the musical juice is delightsome, why not seek out the Cittern School, O youth? |
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