|Title(s)||Συμεὼν πατρικίου καὶ ἀσηκρῆτις, τοῦ νυνὶ μαγίστρου καὶ στρατιωτικοὺ, εἰς Κωνσταντῖνον τὸν Πορφυρογέννητον βασιλέα|
|Text source||I. Ševčenko 1969-1970, Poems on the Deaths of Leo VI and Constantine VII in the Madrid Manuscript of Scylitzes, Dumbarton Oaks Papers, 23-24, 187-228: 210-212|
|Text status||Text completely known|
|Editorial status||Critical text|
|Subject(s)||Konstantinos VII Porphyrogennetos (17/05/905-18/05/905 - 09/11/959) - PBW: Konstantinos/7/ - PMBZ: 25888: "Personenkennziffer: 23734"|
On the emperor Constantine Porphyrogenitus, by Symeon, patrician and a secretis, presently magister and stratiotikos
Let floods of tears stream down our cheeks, our hearts with sobs be throbbing,
Let us lament the cruel death of Constantine the Ruler.
Ye hills and mountains, wail with us our master's sad departure;
For grief is shared by all alike, the world itself is mourning.
Your royal spouse, in tears immersed, and your beloved children --
To what far country art thou gone O Constantine, my Ruler?
O Constantine, the Lord hath thee from many ills delivered,
And yet the end no one can flee, the tombstone knows no mercy.
O dirges, heavy with sobbing!
With bitter tears instead of ink shall I portray my suff'rings,
Record the universe's loss for future generations.
The memory of thy sweet self O Constantine, my Ruler,
Lodged bitter pain within the hearts of those who loved you dearly.
Since Constantine, our Sun, stepped down into sepulchral darkness,
The whole wide world has been in gloom, and by despond beclouded.
O Sun, thy glowing rays withhold beginning with the hour
In which the tomb withheld from us the universe's splendor.
Lament, all men, of cruel death the mystery beholding,
For lo, the grave is not abashed by scepter or by throne.
O, wail with me, all creation!
Lips eloquent, mild countenance, regard in grace abounding,
How fast, alas, you waste away in coffin's sullen silence.
O, City, look at thy beloved, at thy imperial master:
How small the stone which hides from sight the leveller of cities.
"However bitter be your tears, my spouse and dearest children,
Time shall console you in your grief, while grave shall melt my body.
King Leo, now thy Constantine receive as thy companion,
United bitterly with thee in fellowship of burial."
All earthly things are vanity, of vanities the greatest:
An emperor is lying dead, into foul dust transmuted.
Inanimate things, mourn with me!
In olden days, springs gushed from stones by God's transcendent power;
Now stones shall shed abundant tears succumbing to their sorrow.
"Romanus, most beloved youth, the State's most noble flower,
Remember thy begetter, child, thou know'st his love toward you.
I set my foot upon strange ground in search of monkish prayers;
And right away I must begin an even stranger journey.
Alas, O Basil, of the State adornment most delightful,
No longer shall I look at thee, the lightray of my eyesight.
From all of you am I detached, the grave of all bereaves me;
What use to me is now the pomp of the imperial power?"
What soul can suffer such trial?
The bitter drops with blood are stained that down my cheeks are trickling,
To show how unendurable and vast is our misfortune.
"All earthly things flow past and die, they are like grass of meadows;
And lofty thrones and splendid crowns are laughable illusion.
A narrow dwelling is the grave, yet I did fit into it.
Why did I eye the vast expanse of the whole oecumene
And did devise campaigns against the foes of our Empire?
I did not know how soon I was to pass to Hades' kingdom.
My son, thy mother do protect and show her proper honors;
For I must hastily depart to earth, the common Mother."
My sorrow knows of no surfeit.
Divert the flow of rushing streams, divert their mighty currents;
For tears that deluge now the world are unto all sufficient.
"O Lord, of light am I deprived and of the earthly glory:
Deprive me not of Thy own Grace and of the Light eternal.
Farewell ye friends, farewell ye all, do not forget your Ruler,
And think of death, since murky tombs for all of us are waiting.
All worldly Glory, Rule and Wealth are nothing but deception;
One thing alone remains unchanged: the hope in God's assistance.
O King and Master, Lord of mine, o Might that knows no limit,
Allow Thy servant Constantine to share in Thine own Glory."
Oh, how to bear this affliction?
Instead of dripping drops of rain, send down, o clouds, whole torrents:
For Constantine is dead; the world has lost its sweetest Ruler.
|Comment||Ševčenko has changed the order of line 20-24 to 23-24-22-20-21, because according to him: "The only irregularity in the poem's structure occurs in the second strophe comprising the acrostics Ε-Θ. To obtain perfect articulation-and to reestablish what I consider to be the original order of lines-it is sufficient to interchange the positions of verses y3-y4 and Θ-θ, respectively. I have done so in editing the text of Poem IV, since the operation is not detrimental to the sequence of such thought as the poem contains." (p. 215) We have taken over his proposed verse order in this type.|
|Number of verses||66|
 Ἀπο βλεφάρων δάκρυα ἀπὸ καρδίας θρῆνον
MADRID - Biblioteca Nacional Vitr. 26-2 (olim N.2) [12th c.] (f. 139r)
|Identification||Vassis ICB 2005, 69: "In obitum Constantini VII Porphyr."|