Mosella by Ausonius
Contents
The Journey ;
The Hymn ;
Looking into the depths ;
The Fishes ;
The Vineyards ;
The gods ;
Reflections in the River ;
Boatmen at Play ;
The Anglers ;
Riverside Villas ;
Some of the Villas Described ;
Tributaries of the Moselle ;
A Salutation ;
One day Ausonius will write of eminent Belgians ;
The Moselle flows into the Rhine ;
Ausonius on himself ;
There is so much more to sing ;
All other rivers will bow to the Moselle
18. All other rivers will bow to the Moselle.
Loire will not claim first position,
Nor the Aisne that rushes headlong,
Not the river Marne, the boundary
Separating Gauls and Belgians,
Nor the river Charante even,
With its tidal flow at Saintonge.
And the stream that rushes downwards
From the freezing mountain summit
Of Duranus will be yielding
Pride of place to your clear waters;
Gaul will rank the Tarn beneath you,
Though there's gold beneath its waters.
The Adour that rushes madly,
The Adour
Rolling cobbles as it rushes
Towards the purple-coloured ocean,
First will venerate the godhead
Of Moselle, the mighty mistress.
O Moselle, you horned river!
Far and wide your reputation
Should be spreading, and not only
Where on high spring-waters issue,
Where you show your golden bull-face;
And not only where through curving
Fields you make your peaceful passage;
And not only where you mingle
With the sea in German harbours;
If in time my humble verses
Find some breath of happy favour,
Someone who will think it worth while
Spending time to read this poem,
You, Moselle, will live on men's lips,
Cherished in their joyful singing.
Springs and living lakes will know you,
Streams and ancient groves will know you -
Groves that villages are proud of.
River Drome and winding Durance,
Alpine streams will give you honour,
And the Rhone itself, that wanders
Flowing through the double city,
Giving names to Left and Right Bank.
Then my poem will commend you
To the pools that echo heaven,
That reflect the blue of heaven,
To the great loud-sounding rivers,
To my own Garonne in Bordeaux
Spreading grandly like the ocean.
The Garonne at Bordeaux
Top of page
|
