antiquam

Yesterday I went to Divine Liturgy and as the priest was censing the congregation and proclaiming “Christ Is Risen!” in English and Slavonic he noticed me off in the corner and shouted, “Christus Resurrexit!”

It took me a second to get my bearings — because I wasn’t expecting Latin in a Byzantine church — but eventually I was able to croak out a self-conscious, “Vere Resurrexit!” in response.

For those of us with a Latin fetish, the once dying language seems to be breathing on her own. You can go to Latin Masses, read the news in the old tongue, and even catch the weather report in Linguam Latinam. (BTW, in Boston right now it’s Partialiter Nubila)

Which reminds me of a song poem…

Several years ago, a friend sent me the following and, in my opinion, its clever construction makes it worthy of a Nobel Prize. You can probably decipher it if you (barely) passed Latin I in high school.

Have at it:

Carmen Possum

The Nox was lit by lux of Luna
And ’twas a nox most opportuna
To catch a possum or a coona;

For nix was scattered o’er this mundus,
A shallow nix, et non profundus.
On sic a nox with canis unus
Two boys went out to hunt for coonus.
The corpus of this bonus canis
Was full as long as octo span is
But brevior legs had canis never
Quam bad hic dog; et bonus clever.
Some used to say, in stultum jocum
Quod a field was too small locum
For sic a dog to make a turnus
Circum self from stem to sternus*

Unis canis, duo puer,
Nunquam braver, nunquam truer
Quam hoc trio nunquam fuit
If there was I never knew it.
This bonus dog had one bad habit.
Amabat much to tree a rabbit,
Amabat plus to chase a rattus,
Amabat bene tree a cattus.

But on this nixy moonlight night
This old canus did just right.
Nunquam treed a starving rattus,
Nunquam chased a starving cattus,
But succurrit on intentus
On the track and on the scentum
Till he trees a possum strongum
In a hollow trunkum longum.

Loud he barked an horrid bellum
Seemed on terra vehit pellum
Quickly ran the duo puer
Mors of possum to secure.
Quam venerit, one began
To chop away like quisque man
Soon the axe went through the truncum
Soon he hit it all kerchunkum
Combat deepens, on ye braves!

Canis, pueri et staves
As his powers non longius carry
Possum potest, non pugnare
On the nix his corpus lieth
Down to Hades spirit flieth.

Joyful pueri, canis bonus,
Think him dead as any stonus
Now they seek their pater’s domo
Feeling proud as any homo
Knowing, certe, they will blossom
Into heroes, when with possum
They arrive, narrabunt story
Plenus blood et plenior glory.

Pompey, David, Samson, Caesar
Cyrus, Black Hawk, Shalmanezer!
Tell me where est now the gloria
Where the honors of victoria?
Nunc a domum narrent story
Plenus sanguine, tragic, gory.

Pater praiseth, likewise mater
Wonders greatly younger frater
Possum leave they on the mundus
Go themselves to sleep profundus
Somniunt possums slain in battle
Strong as ursae, large as cattle.

When nox gives way to lux of morning
Albam terram much adorning
Up they jump to see the varmen
Of the which this is the carmen.

Lo! possum est resurrectum
Ecce pueri dejectum
Ne relinquit back behind him
Et the pueri never find him
Cruel possum! bestia vilest
How the pueros thou beguiles
Pueri think non plus of Caesar
Go ad Orcum, Shalmanezer
Take your laurels, cum the honor
Since ista possum is a goner!

– Anonymous