Nostalgic Feelings for the Divine Alphabet

A little Gnostalgic encomium in praise of the Latin Language, as I came to know it while living in Rome for many years.

(Carmenta)

“The Divine Alphabet”

We are a nation onto ourselves,

who are the slaves of the Latins.

A beloved alphabet on our shelves,

as sacred as Vespers and Matins.

And the heart has reasons minds know not,

for loving declensions Virgil wrought.

This language has blessed the thought

of men dressed in rags to silks and satins.

 

Our spiritual home is the Pantheon,

by emperors, martyrs and countless others.

The national insignia that we put on,

carries the red Pompeiian colors.

Faunus has given us his ancient fife,

to praise Carmenta, our lettered wife,

in our divinely graced but earthly life,

as new generations become our brothers.

 

We are a little band at the feet of sages,

a small affinity in the cultural sector.

A line is drawn by Cato to Christian ages,

according to every lector and Nestor.

They salute with Ave! and give correction,

for our nation needs their direction,

ennobling us despite our imperfection -

they are as formidable as Hector!

 

Soon it shall be three thousand years

of the Ab Urbe Condita traditions.

Suddenly a grand old vision appears

of consuls, caesars, plebs and patricians,

Roman numerals and vocabulary,

brick and marble, the classical library,

the republic’s rise and fall in January,

Mediterranean wars and ambitions.

 

But soon again Latin will be quoted,

in every youth who reads his Cicero

or Dante, who’s echo from our Ovid

will reestablish the Roman status quo.

Yes, once again shall our bacchanal

be in Cathedrals and the diaconal

ministers sing as Solomons canticle,

to a loving cup filled to overflow!

 

Yes, we shall defend the Roman law,

and we will win the laurel crown.

So stand before our myth in awe,

where in a cave, by a she-wolf, we lie down,

and then rise to proclaim our creed:

that to Urbi et Orbi all must concede!

But if our flowers grow with weeds,

it’s to convert the world through one town.

 

Soon we shall rule over people and lands

by giving our daily offerings,

with reverence and humble hands

in praise for what the choir sings,

from Gregorian chant to Palestrina:

about Jesus and Mary, our Rex and Regina,

as doves and lilies in a bloody arena -

that is what our nationality brings.

 

Across the seven hills is St.Peter’s basilica

built by prayers where bells are rung:

it’s the holiest sanctuary on this peninsula -

in the body of Christ it’s our spiritual lung.

It breathes its breath over the Vestal fire

burning on embers which never tire.

The deepest truth it confronts to every liar,

is that the devil hates the Latin tongue!

(Carmenta, Goddess of childbirth and prophecy, protector of mothers and children, patron of midwives, inventor of the Latin alphabet)

Pax et Bonum!

Wilhelm Höjer