The Old Men
Alas, how right the ancient saying is:
We, who are old, are nothing else but noise
And shape. Like mimicries of dreams we go,
And have no wits, although we think us wise.
Much too morose for me. Perhaps much of what I found was dulled by translation and that in the speaking, in the original Greek, in the ampitheatres or public spaces where the words were spoken, there was something more lively to it, something moving.
Then I found Aristophanes, who mocked poor Euripides for his tragic turn, and suddenly found Euripides much more agreeable for his beleaguered state.
A Parody on Euripides's Lyric VerseHalcyons ye by the flowing sea
Waves that warble twitteringly,
Circling over the tumbling blue,
Dipping your down in its briny dew,
Spi-i-iders in corners dim
Spi-spi-spinning your fairy film,
Shuttles echoing round the room
Silver notes of the whistling loom,
Where the light-footed dolphin skips
Down the wake of the dark-prowed ships,
Over the course of the racing steed
Where the clustering tendrils breed
Grapes to drown dull care in delight,
Oh! mother make me a child again just for to-night!
I don't exactly see how that last line is to scan,
But that's a consideration I leave to our musical man
Photo source: Euripides