Forgotten Ground Regained
Archytas
(Horace, Odes, 1.28),
The ghost of the cartographer Archytas, who perished at sea, seeks burial rites from a marinerso he may pass to the underworld.
I, who surveyed seas, · lands and sandsno count could measure, · Archytas, am cloisteredby thin-grained dust, · my grave unknown:How was I served, · with my still-mortal soul,that I tried heaven's halls · without hesitationor ran my wit · through the wide-vaulted sky?Pelops' father fell, · once the gods’ feast-mate;likewise Tithonus · was taken to the sky,and Minos, though admitted · to Jove's mysteries.Though he proved his past life · in Troy by pullinghis old brass buckler · down from its bindings,and so showed only sinew · and flesh submitto black death's undoing · (nor would you deign hima writer a of nonsense, · who knew truth and natureso well and widely) · yet Euphorbus still wentinto Tartarus' care · his second time down.The Furies force some · to fight for unfeelingMars's amusement; · likewise mariners,for whose wreck · the sea is always rabid.Both seniors and youths · will be stuffed into urnsand no forehead escapes · fear-striking Proserpina.For me, ripping Notus · that rides with Orionin his downward turning · entombed me in tidesoff Illyria’s landfalls, like any other.But lest you refuse, sailor, even to scatterwind-blown sand · on my unburied bonesand give no grain · for my graveless head:though Eurus shake · the Hesperian ship-lanesas much as he pleases, he will punish the pinesof nearby Venusia, leaving you none-the-worse,and that flood will float you · many prizes further,granted by Neptune, the guardian godof Tarentum, joined · by just-dealing Jove,if you would help me. At least, you would hardlycommit such a crime · that would soon curseyour faultless children? Chances are, you’d change courseif proud Fortune’s ire · and the price for guiltfell on yourself. Forsaken, my prayerswill render a revenge · no prayer will relieve.Whatever the heading · you hold back no haste for,
I won’t waylay you · an overlong while:You need only throw · three brief timesa spare bit of sand, then sail on your way
Copyright © Kevin Corbett, 2016
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