Poem, no date (1567), by Johannes Pratensis (BP087)
| Author: | I.P. [Johannes Pratensis] |
| Type: | Poem |
| Date: | no date [1567] |
| Pages: | 3 |
| Language: | Latin |
| Quote as: | https://www.theatrum-paracelsicum.com/index.php?curid=2063 |
| Editor: | Edited by Julian Paulus |
| Source: | Paracelsus, Medici libelli, ed. Balthasar Flöter, Köln: Gerhard Virendunck for Arnold Birckmann (Erben) 1567, sig. ※※※2v–※※※3v [BP087]
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| Translation: | Raw translation see below |
| Back to Paratexts Back to Texts by Johannes Pratensis |
[sig. ※※※2v] Theophrastvs Paracelsvs, Veritatis Amatori.
Ille ego, qui tantas infracto pectore curas,
Aerumnas, casusq́ue graues, durosque labores
Exhausi, & crebro vigilatas ordine noctes,
Insanos æstus, immanis frigora Brumæ,
Insidias, structosque dolos, & fœta periclis
Retia sustinui, dirisq́ue imbuta venenis:
Cum terras omnes, & cum maria omnia circum
Ignotas repetens calles, ignota viarum
Compita, præruptosque aditus, imosq́ue recessus
Lustrarem, patrio latè seclusus ab orbe:
Vt generi Humano, totiq́ue vt sedulus orbi
Prodessem, Leprasque graues, dirasque Podagras,
Herculeamque Hydram, ac tetræ contagia Pestis,
Hydopisq́ue alma frenarem monstra medela.
Ille ego, cui Magni Mysteria cognita Mundi,
Textaque qui densis Naturæ Arcana tenebris
Ante oculos, ante ora hominum cernenda locaui,
Terreno terras erumpens vase teliqui,
Aethereas repetens arces, sacrataque templa,
Hic vbi Dijs mistus cœlesti perfruor aura:
Interea & terris animi Monimenta reliqui
(Thesaurum ingentem) nostrum testantia nomen.
Quinetiam illustri clarum de Lumine Lumen
Accendi, radios totum quod spargit in Orbem,
Cernere quò possent, quantis erroribus acti
[sig. ※※※3r] Mortales, alto fuscarint lumina somno.
Hæc sunt quæ Terræ (sic Dijs mandantibus) ipse
Munera discedens dederam: pro munere rursus,
Quid tribuunt roades, ingratæ pondera Terræ?
Surgentem infesti tentant extinguere famam,
Deformi vt lacerent Augustum vulnere nomen.
Ah immane scelus: nostris non Manibus illi,
Nec sacro parcunt cineri, extinctisque fauillis.
Lurida virosæ reuomunt conuitia linguæ,
Et rapti furijs, Lethen, Erebumque, Stygemque,
Tergeminamque sonant Hecaten, diramque[c1] Megæram,
Atque alias in me medijs in faucibus Orci
Vltrices acuunt, toto conamine, Beluas:
Flectere nam nequeunt Superos, Acheronta fatigant.
Sed misera incassum luctatur Turba, cerebrum
Inuidia nequicquam tenues consumet in auras:
Fata obstant, altique Iouis veneranda voluntas.
Sunt semel informes disiecti sede Gigantes,
Tetraque fulminea traiecit corpora flamma
Flammiger Idacides: iacet, æternumq́ue iacebit
Obrutus Enceladus, vasti qui pondere montis
Aestuat, & patulis expirat faucibus ignes.
Quò pergis vires vltra? quid mœnia veri
Ardua, sublimemque arcem, firmasque Columnas,
Tam leuibus pilis, tam fractis concutis armis,
Quisquis es? & nostro tantum te opponis honori?
Parce precor miles, tibi tu mollissime parce,
Si quæris fragili deformem illidere dentem,
[sig. ※※※3v] Infringes solido, propria delusus ab arte.
Quin nec sola mei pugnant Monimenta laboris,
Nec sola in Terris, nullis ducentibus, errant:
Sed tuta incedunt validis stipata cateruis.
Ecce etenim surgit, præclaris sedibus ortum
Heroum genus, æterni iovis alta propago:
Quod nomen famamq́ue meam, laudemque decusq́ue
Hactenus oppressum, totum diffundet in orbem,
Diuitis ingenij sacrisq́ue tuebitur armis,
Insanos morsus contra, stimulosq́ue furentes:
Hoc, celsum celsa Paracelsvm sede locabit,
Nomina perpetuis ornatum clara Triumphis.
Nec procul ista dies: video surgentis Eoo
Claros Luciferi radios albescere cœlo.
I[oannes] P[ratensis] Remigius Cimb[ricus] f[ecit].
English Raw Translation
Generated by ChatGPT-4 on 7 April 2023. Attention: This translation is a machine translation by artificial intelligence. The translation has not been checked and should not be cited without additional human verification.
Theophrastus Paracelsus to a Lover of Truth.
I am the one who, with a broken heart, has endured immense worries, hardships, heavy misfortunes, and tough labors. I have exhausted sleepless nights, endured scorching heat and the bitter cold of winter, faced treachery, intricate deceits, and danger-filled snares, all while being steeped in deadly poisons. As I sought all the lands and seas, unknown paths and unexplored routes, steep passages, and hidden recesses, I wandered far from my homeland to benefit humankind and the entire world, healing severe leprosy, dreadful gout, the Herculean hydra, the infectious plague, and curbing the monstrous water disease with nurturing remedies.
I am the one who has known the mysteries of the great world, and placed the hidden secrets of nature, shrouded in dense darkness, before the eyes and mouths of humanity. Bursting forth from the earthen vessel, I have reached the celestial heights and sacred temples, enjoying the divine air among the gods. Meanwhile, I have left monuments of my spirit on earth, a vast treasure bearing witness to my name. I have even lit a bright light from the illustrious radiance that spreads its rays across the entire globe, so that mortals may see the great errors that have clouded their vision with deep sleep. These are the gifts I bestowed upon the Earth as I departed, following the command of the gods. In return, what do the inhabitants of the ungrateful Earth bestow upon me? They try to extinguish my rising fame, to wound my illustrious name with unsightly blemishes. Ah, what a heinous crime! They do not spare my own hands, nor my sacred ashes and extinguished embers. With venomous tongues, they spew vile insults, and in their fury, they invoke the Lethe, Erebus, Styx, the triple-headed Hecate, the terrible Megaera, and other avenging monsters from the depths of the underworld, sharpening them against me with all their might. For they cannot bend the will of the gods, so they exhaust themselves on Acheron.
But the miserable crowd struggles in vain, for their envy will only consume them like thin air. Destiny stands in their way, and the high, venerable will of Jupiter prevails. The disfigured giants have been once cast down from their place, their monstrous bodies pierced by the fiery flames of the Thunderbearer. Enceladus lies buried beneath the weight of a vast mountain, seething and exhaling fire from his gaping maw, and so he shall remain forever.
Why do you continue to test your strength? Whoever you are, why do you attempt to shake the lofty walls of truth, the towering citadel, and the firm columns, with such weak threads and broken weapons, and oppose my honor? I implore you, spare yourself, most delicate soldier, for if you seek to strike a fragile tooth against the solid, you will be deceived by your own art.
Indeed, the monuments of my labor do not fight alone, nor do they wander lost on Earth without guidance. They walk securely, supported by strong throngs. Behold, a race of heroes rises from noble origins, the progeny of eternal Jupiter. They will spread my name, fame, praise, and glory, which has been suppressed until now, throughout the entire world, and will protect it with the wealth of their genius and sacred weapons against the mad bites and furious stings. This lineage will place Paracelsus on a lofty seat, his name adorned with eternal triumphs.
That day is not far off: I see the bright rays of the Morning Star emerging in the East, whitening the sky.
