Poem, no date (1600), Benedictus Figulus to Georg Amwald (BP.Figulus.1600-01)

Author:	Benedictus Figulus
Recipient:	Georg Amwald
Type:	Poem
Date:	no date [1600]
Pages:	1
Language:	Latin

Quote as:

https://www.theatrum-paracelsicum.com/index.php?curid=3058

Editor:	Edited by Julian Paulus
Source:	Benedictus Figulus, Carmen Heroicum Insignia Megalandri Lutheri complectens, Stuttgart: Marx Fürster 1600, sig. B1r–B3r [BP.Figulus.1600-01]

Translation:

Raw translation see below

Abstract:

The poem begins by emphasizing Amwald's widespread influence, with writings and songs sent from distant shores, all expressing deep devotion to him. Figulus contrasts Amwald's virtuous reputation with the deceitful voices of detractors, particularly emphasizing their false accusations and ill intentions. These critics, despite their venomous words, are depicted as inferior, misguided, and ultimately inconsequential. The poem also highlights the support Amwald receives from influential figures, including princes and theologians, underscoring his esteemed position. Figulus condemns the critics, suggesting they are driven by envy, ignorance, and pride. He invokes divine favor upon Amwald, emphasizing that God's blessings and protection are evident in his life. The poem concludes with a hopeful note, suggesting that the virtuous "Panacea" will endure as long as there's a need for healing in the world. (generated by Chat-GPT)

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[sig. B1r] V[iro] magnifico Clarissimo: et ivrisconsvlto et medico nobilissimo, philosopho celeberrimo, D[omi]n[o] Doctori Georgio am & vom VVald, in Dürnhoff &c. Domino & patrono suo perpetuâ obseruantiâ colendo. S[alutem] D[icit].

Pande fores AmWalde, cliens tuus alite dextro,
Ritè salutatum teque tuosque, redit.
O fortunatam diuino munere lucem!
Orta diu non est quâ mihi candidior.
Viuida me recreant tua, suauiter, ora tuentem.
Exhilarant alios ora serena Ducum.
O me felicem nimium! vt me, credere non est,
Dulvior Hyblæo vox tua melle iuuet.
Vox, sacra, docta, decens, pietatis plena disertæ,
Nunc traxisse reor Orphea saxa lyrâ.
Ecquod enim (centum si tecum lustra morarer)
Ecquod verbum aliud euolat ore tuo?
E sacrosancti magno nisi codice verbi?
E que libris sumtum Diue Luthere tuis?
Aut è naturæ penitis penitralibus ortum?
Nempè orbis triplex machina quicquid habet.
Arbor Christus, ait, Vitæ manet vnica. ramus
Vnus, vera Fides, mutuus, alter, Amor.
His alis vatum sacram sublatus in arcem,
Expers erroris, ire redire potest.
[sig. B1v] Maxima iam monstras Herois dicta Lutheri,
Rubricâ vigili dicta notata manu.
Iam contenta sacris ostendis chemica libris,
Sub quibus ipse Deus mystica sacra docet.
Iam scelera intuitus mundi, moresque, futuros
Euentus mirâ dexteritate notas.

Hâcce citis citius tecum ratione quadrigis
Lux abit. Ah quid lux? sic mihi mensis abit.
Mille quid enumerem scripta hîc Regumque Ducumque
Doctorumque hominum nobiliumque virum.
Certatim Panace quibus hanc celebratur in horam,
Et mille expetitur in mala mille locis.

Carmina quæ vidi vatis mellita Melissi
Ipse libens, vatum, næ, sine lite Ducis!
Quamque tuos doctissimus ille Idiota labores
Laudat, & artifici simplicitate canit!
Prædicat Artomedis quàm te pia Musa Sebasti,
Limpidulo numeris purior amne fluens!
Tum verò felix magni æmulus ille Melissi
Tabmanus, nostræ cultor amicitiæ,
Quem sese ostentat? sibi vates ipse videtur
Non satis in laudes oris habere tuas.

Scripta quot Albiacis, quod carmina misit ab oris?
Proh, bone Mæcenas, quàm studiosa tui!
Te patrem vocat, & si quid patre sanctius orbe est,
Promittitque suam tempus in omne fidem.
Illud vbi os mendax, os dignum rustico oleto,
Desciuisse viros hos malè deblaterans?
Caussâ huius furiæ quis dogmata vera negaret?
Quisue lubens tali cum furiâ fureret?
Iste vbi scurra, vbinam, perfrictæ frontis, & oris
Distorti? victum quod crepat vsque Panax.
Scilicet vt bellum bellum est; vt Parcaque parcit;
Vt libare Libaff de pietate solet.
[sig. B2r] O equitem Vtopiæ lepidis ficulneum ab oris!
Dignum, aures duo qui tinnula sistra gerat.
Crescis, te liuor decrescere dum impius optat,
Dum insanit Momus, tu benè, sanus, agis.
Immisso sterni poterit si pondere Palma:
Deficiet Panace viribus alma suis.
Morbida nunc terris grassantur tempora. Non sat
Semina morborum trita medela domat.
Ergò ad te varijs á doctis scribitur oris.
Ad te cum certâ, dante Deo, itur ope.
Et tamen infelix Polyphemus & inuidus, ausit
Inuehi in æterni munera summa Dei?
In Christos Domini, medicos, Iurisque peritos
Heu scelerata, lubens, qui maledicta vomit,
Ille, legendum inter, cui spernitur ore proteruo
Hunnius, en sacri quanta columna gregis!
Quo nunc Theiologum sol adspicit haud mage doctum,
Quem timet Huberus, Calua tremitque cohors;
Qui malus inuidiâ & maledictis pascitur, anguis
Iste Engelharto parcat, & iste tibi?
Non abs re quendam iuuenem doctissimum, vt istum
Deuitet colubrum, Mylius ille monet,
Quem Iena miratur tonitru sacra templa cientem,
Qui cluet ingenio, qui pietate cluet.
Ipse alijs, plenus rimarum, crimina dicat?
Criminibus plenus, carminibusque malis?
Fætida pro pulcris obtrudens stercora gemmis,
Inuitus, Fato, stercora sæpè vorat.
Ecce nouum autem Theiologum! en polypragmona, cui falx
Inquies in essem mittitur alterius!
Qui præcepta alios artis docet, ipse docendus,
Fastu odioque tumens scurra, sophista vafer.
[sig. B2v] Cogitur edicto præstare silentia, dum quid
Accidere in Iouam voce furente vomit.
Cælum adeò terræ damnata superbia miscet,
Arrio ita ambitio perniti osa fuit.
Non est, multa in quem scribantur, credite, dignus.
Pix attrectantes inquinat atra suos.
Tu meritis omnis culpæ sat redderis insons.
Sat tua te virtus, sat pietasque beat.
Iste ecquid didicit, nugas nisi vendere? dignum
Tam lepidum nugis pascier ergò caput.
Mensque Engelharti, recti sibi conscia, videt
Dictata à Satanâ crimina Libafij.
Hic scelus? annè ministerij vir dedecus ille?
O scelus, hæc à quo vox scelerata venit!
Rimpachium dicat, verax Creglinga loquatur,
Nunc Martinshemius incola significet.
Ille fide summà Christo Archiepiscopo Iesu
Acta, suoque Duci, factaque cuncta probat.
Sic probat, vtiam humeris, fato votoque supremum
Euectus portet grandius (audin?) onus.
Quæ lex fex ista est? & episcopus iste, Georgi,
Hîc quod agat, quid habet scopticus iste rei?
Interea pater omnipotens manifesta fauoris
In te signa sui dat, benè nota mihi.
Maximus Imperij princeps hoc turbine rerum,
Brandenburgiacæ stella decora domus,
Pacis amans, Patriæ Pater illustrissimus, almæ
Relligionis honos, teque amat, atque fouet.
Femina tûm verè princeps, heroa virago,
Dona tuæ mentis, aulaque tota, colit.
Quid? maiora loquar. Te maximus arbiter æui
In patrocinium suscipit ipse suum.
Hoc Engelhartus diuinæ præco salutis,
Hoc tute, hoc & ego, vindice, saluus ero.
[sig. B3r] Vult Deus illesam Panacen. Quosdam adspice primos
Hostes, te viuo, quos fera Parca tulit.
Si quit, Christe hominem ad meliorem ducito frugem.
Si nequit, intereant ausa nefanda viri
At Panacea, vigens semper, Panacea manebit,
Donec in humano corpore morbus erit.

Tuæ Nobilitatis & Excell[entiae] obseruantissimus

Benedictus Figulus Vtenhouius, Ecclesiae Lipperhusanæ Pastor.

Apparatus

Marginalia

English Raw Translation

Generated by ChatGPT-4 on 20 August 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.

To the most magnificent and illustrious man, both a most noble jurist and physician, a most famous philosopher, Lord Doctor Georg Amwald of Wald, in Dürnhoff &c., to his patron, perpetually honored with reverence, the author sends greetings.

Open your doors, Amwald, your client with the right wing,
Having duly greeted you and yours, returns.
O fortunate light, gifted by divine grace!
No dawn has risen brighter for me.
Your lively face refreshes me as I gaze upon it sweetly.
The serene faces of leaders cheer others.
O how overly fortunate am I! It's unbelievable,
That your voice is sweeter to me than Hyblaean honey.
A voice, sacred, learned, fitting, full of eloquent piety,
Now I think it has drawn stones like Orpheus with his lyre.
For what else (even if I spent a hundred lustra with you)
What other word flies from your mouth?
Except from the sacred code of the holy word?
And what is taken from your divine Luther books?
Or what arises from the innermost sanctums of nature?
Indeed, the threefold mechanism of the world contains everything.
"Christ is the tree of life," he says, "the only branch remains.
One is true Faith, the other mutual Love.
With these wings, lifted into the sacred citadel of poets,
Free from error, one can come and go.
Now you show the greatest sayings of the hero Luther,
Marked with a watchful hand in red.
Now you display the contents of sacred alchemical books,
Under which God himself teaches sacred mysteries.
Now, having seen the sins of the world, its customs, and future events,
You note them with amazing skill.

With this reason, faster than swift chariots with you,
The light departs. Ah, what light? Thus, the month departs for me.
Why enumerate a thousand writings here of Kings and Dukes,
Of learned men and noble men?
Eagerly with Panacea by whom this hour is celebrated,
And a thousand is sought in a thousand bad places.

The songs I saw of the honeyed poet Melissus,
You yourself willingly lead, yes, without dispute, of poets!
And how that most learned Idiot praises your labors,
And sings with artless simplicity!
How the pious Muse of Artomedes praises you, Sebastian,
Flowing purer than a clear stream with numbers!
Then truly, the happy rival of the great Melissus,
Tabmanus, a cultivator of our friendship,
Whom does he show off? He himself seems to be a poet
Not having enough of your praises in his mouth.

To how many from Albiac shores has he sent writings, what songs?
Ah, good Maecenas, how devoted they are to you!
She calls you father, and if there's anything more sacred in the world than a father,
She promises her faith for all time.
Where is that deceitful mouth, a mouth worthy of rustic garlic,
Speaking ill of these men with false words?
What cause of this fury would deny true teachings?
Who would willingly rage with such fury?
Where is that buffoon, where, with a worn-out brow and twisted mouth,
That constantly chatters about Panax being defeated?
Surely as war is war; as Fate spares;
As Libaf is accustomed to pour libations about piety.
Oh, the knight of Utopia from the charming fig-tree shores!
Worthy of one who carries two tinkling cymbals for ears.
You grow, while wicked envy wishes you to diminish,
While Momus raves, you act well and sanely.
If a palm tree can be felled by a heavy weight thrown:
Panacea will fail with its nurturing powers.
Sickly times now plague the earth. It's not enough
That ground remedies conquer the seeds of diseases.
Thus, from various and learned shores, they write to you.
To you, they come with certain aid, God granting.
And yet, the unfortunate and envious Polyphemus dares
To attack the highest gifts of eternal God?
Against the anointed of the Lord, physicians, and experts in law,
Alas, he willingly spews cursed words,
He, among the read, whose arrogant mouth scorns
Hunnius, behold, how great a pillar of the sacred flock!
Where now the sun sees no more learned theologian,
Whom Huberus fears, and the bald cohort trembles;
That evil one, fed by envy and curses, a snake,
Will he spare Engelhart, and will he spare you?
It's not without reason that Mylius warns a certain very learned young man
To avoid this snake,
Whom Jena admires, thundering and shaking the sacred temple,
Who is famous for his genius, who shines with piety.
He, full of faults, accuses others of crimes?
Full of crimes and bad songs?
Pushing foul dung in place of beautiful gems,
Reluctantly, by Fate, he often eats dung.
Behold a new theologian! Behold a busybody, to whom a sickle
Is sent to disturb another's rest!
Who teaches others the precepts of art, yet needs teaching himself,
A boastful and hateful buffoon, a cunning sophist.
He is forced by decree to remain silent, while he
Vomits furious words about what might happen to Jove.
Thus, the sky mixes with the earth, condemned pride,
Thus, Arius's ambition was destructive.
He's not, believe me, worthy of many writings about him.
Black pitch contaminates those who touch it.
You are rendered innocent by your merits of all blame.
Your virtue and piety sufficiently bless you.
Has he learned anything, except to sell trifles? Thus,
Such a charming head is fed with trifles.
Engelhart's mind, aware of its righteousness, sees
The crimes dictated by Satan in Libafius.
Is this a crime? Or is that man a disgrace to the ministry?
Oh crime, from whom did this cursed voice come!
Let Rimpach say, let truthful Creglinga speak,
Now let the inhabitant of Martinshemius indicate.
He, with utmost faith, approves of the deeds for Christ, the Archbishop Jesus,
And all that has been done for his Leader.
He approves in such a way that, elevated by fate and ultimate wish,
He carries a greater burden (do you hear?) on his shoulders.
What law is this dross? And this bishop, Georgi,
What does this skeptic have to do with what he does?
Meanwhile, the almighty father gives clear signs of his favor
Towards you, well known to me.
The greatest prince of the empire, in this whirlwind of affairs,
The shining star of the Brandenburg house,
Loving peace, the illustrious Father of the Fatherland, the honor of the nurturing
Religion, loves and cherishes you.
Then truly, the female prince, a heroic woman,
Values the gifts of your mind, and the entire court honors them.
What? Shall I speak of greater things? The greatest judge of the age
Takes you under his protection.
By this, Engelhart, the herald of divine salvation,
By this, you, and I, with a defender, will be safe.
God wishes Panacea to remain unharmed. Look at some of the first
Enemies, whom fierce Fate took while you live.
If anyone can, Christ, lead the man to better fruit.
If he cannot, let the wicked attempts of men perish.
But Panacea, always thriving, will remain Panacea,
As long as there is disease in the human body.

Your most observant Nobility & Excellence,

Benedictus Figulus of Utenhove, Pastor of the Church of Lipprichhausen.