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Tragedia Amoris [40]


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Tragedia Amoris.translation
XL.
Cat.
Taure quid eximijs te cornua nexa corollis?
Quidque iuuant agili tympana pulsa manu?
Mox lanius rigida feriet tibi colla securi,
Paruaque perpetua gaudia nocte lues.
Quid rosa, quid litui tibi quid, homo, blanda lib
Proderit? & vasto, quidquid in orbe placet?
Heu leuis & breuis est mundi vel summa volupta
Et premit emeritum mors sine morte iecur. translation

Prouer.7.
ORbis terrarum, homini tamquam theatrum
est, vnusquisque ibi nostrum, scænæ servit
comicam hic, tragicam ille personam sustinet
comicam certè, Amoris diuini assecla; quocum-
que enim ille exordio actum incipit, lepido uti-
que ac festiuo fine vitæ fabulam claudit. Tragico
cothurno indutus prodit assecla Amoris hum{?}
nec personam ponit nisi cruentus: actus enim po-
stremus numquam illi alius nisi funestus ac tritis,
ducitur enim quasi bos ad victimam, & quasi ag-
nus lasciuiens & ignorans quod ad vincula traha-
tur, donec transfigat sagitta iecur eius. Nunc er-
go, o Anima, audi me & attende verbis oris mei
ne abstrahatur in vijs illius mens tua, neque deci-
piaris semitis eius. multos enim vulneratos deie-
cit, & fortissimi quique interfecti sunt ab eo{?} translation


Post gaudia luctus. translation

Que sert au pauure boeuf des fleurs qu' on l'enuironne,
Puis qu' un sanglant boucher de si pres le talonne.

Tragedie de l'Amour.
XL.
Qu' ell' estime feroit le bœuf de ceste gloire
S'il preuoioit qu' vn iour sa fin sera si noire?
Quel estat feroit il de ce cruel honneur?
Et toy mondain qui scats, que les faueurs plus grandes,
Semblables à ces fleurs, ressemblent ces girlandes,
Tu n'en scais augurer ton eternel malheur?

Porque no os lleue este Amor
Tened alma en la memoria
Que al fin se canta la gloria.

Wellust/ eer/ goet/ wat batet al/
In 't midden van ons ongheval.

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Translations

The tragedy of love.
Bull, why are your horns tied up with a shock of garlands,
What is the attraction of cymbals beaten with nimble hands?
Soon the executioner will strike your stiff neck with his axe,
And you will pay for trifling enjoyments with perpetual night.
What good will the rose, clarions, welcome sensual pleasure
Do to you, yes, even whatever is pleasing to you in the whole wide world?
Woe, even the highest form of sensuality has no substance and is short-lived,
And death without death presses on the spent liver.
Missing text in the right margin.
Joy succeeds sorrow.

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Literature


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    Sources and parallels



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    Iconclass

    A prize-ox on parade

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