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EMBLEMA CXCII [=191] .

In vitam humanam.

On human life

Plus solito humanae nunc defle incommoda vitae,
Heraclite: scatet pluribus illa malis.
Tu rursus (si quando alias) extolle cachinnum
Democrite: illa magis ludicra facta fuit.
Interea haec cernens meditor, qua denique tecum
Fine fleam, aut tecum quomodo splene iocer.[1]

Weep now, Heraclitus, even more than you did, for the ills of human life. It teems with far more woes. And you, Democritus, if ever you laughed before, raise your cackle now. Life has become more of a joke. Meanwhile, seeing all this, I consider just how far I can weep with you, how laugh bitterly with you.

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Das CXCII [=191] .

Vom Menschlichen Leben .[2]

Heraclite du alter greiß
Thu jetzt beweinen mit mehr fleiß
Deß Menschlichen Lebens unglück
Dann es steckt voller böser tück
Du aber widerumb erschell
Democrite dein glechter hell
Dann lecherlicher zu keiner zeit
Gewesen ist als jetzt die geit
Dieweil ich aber dieses sich
Betracht ich bey mir fleissiglich
Ob ichs mit dir beweinen sol
Oder mit dir verlachen wol.

Notes:

1.  This is a translation of Anthologia graeca 9.148. For Heraclitus, cf. Emblem 37 ([A67a037]). For the contrast between the despairing tears of Heraclitus (who withdrew from human society) and the sardonic laughter of Democritus when faced with the folly of men, see, among many sources, e.g. Juvenal, Satires 10, 28ff.

2.  The German in certain parts of this emblem is particularly puzzling.


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EMBLEMA CXC [=189] .

Obnoxia infirmitas.

Weakness is vulnerable

Pisciculos Orata [=Aurata] rapit medio aequore sardas,
Ni fugiant pavidae summa marisque petant?
Link to an image of this page  Link to an image of this page  [R4v f119v]Ast ibi sunt mergis fulicisque voracibus esca
Eheu intuta manens undique debilitas.

The little sardines the golden wrasse swallows in the depths of the ocean, unless in fear they flee and make for the surface of the sea. But there they provide a meal for greedy divers and other sea-birds. Alas for weakness, remaining everywhere at risk.

Das CXC [=189] .

Wolgeplagte Armut.

Die Goldbraßmen im mitten Meer
Die Fischlein Sardein engstet sehr
Wann sie nicht fliehen also gschwind
Zu öberst sie gefressen sind
Aber da werdens graubt zur Speiß
Von Breßlin und Merchen on greiß
Ach Gott wie ist die arm schwachheit
An allen orten nider gleidt.


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