Est Mihi Nonum or “Jar of nine year Alban wine”, is the ancient song from X century written by Anonymous composer. Poem was founded in Horace’s Ode to Phyllis manuscript and also found in Epos: Music of Carolingian Age. The Carolingian Empire marks an important moment in the history of poetry and music of medieval Western Europe, today kept in Paris. In the poem, Horace or Quintus Horatius Flaccus (65 — 8 BC), who was the leading Roman lyric poet during the time of emperor Augustus, is back with his last woman. He was telling her about all of the festivities in honor of his friend’s birthday, Maecenas, who was an important patron of the arts. Meanwhile, her love, Telephus, has been gobbled up by some rich lady who has no intention of giving him up. Horace consoles Phyllis by telling her he is not her sort of people, so she can chase away the sadness and accept the destiny.
Est mihi nonum superantis annum plenus Albani cadus, est in horto, Phylli, nectendis apium coronis, est hederae vîs multa quâ crînıs religâta fulgês, ridet argento domus, ara castis vincta verbenis avet immolato spargier agno; cuncta festinat manus, huc et illuc cursitant mixtae pueris puellae, sordidum flammae trepidant rotantes vertice fumum. Ut tamen noris quibus advoceris gaudiis, Idus tibi sunt agendae, qui dies mensem Veneris marinae findit Aprilem, iure sollemnis mihi sanctiorque paene natali proprio, quod ex hac luce Maecenas meus affluentıs ordinat annos. Telephum, quem tu petis, occupavit non tuae sortis iuvenem puella dives et lasciva tenetque gratâ compede vinctum. Terret ambustus Phaethon avaras spes et exemplum grave praebet ales Pegasus terrenum equitem gravatus Bellerophontem, semper ut te digna sequare et ultra quam licet sperare nefas putando disparem vites. Age iam, meorum finis amorum (non enim posthac aliâ calebofeminâ), condisce modos, amandâ voce quos reddas; minuentur atrae carmine curae.
Translation by James Rumford.
I have a full jar of nine year Alban wine well aged; and in the garden, Phyllis, there are celery leaves for you to make a wreath and there is ivy, tons of it—with which you’ll shine with your hair bound up. The house grins with the silver. The shrine, with clean leaves adorned, cries out to be sprinkled with blood from a floured lamb. Every hand is rushing around, here and there, the servant girls and boys are bustling about, the flames are flicker-dancing, whirling the soot- blackened smoke aloft. Just so you know what kind of party you’ve been invited to, you have the ides coming up,
the day that splits April in two, the month of Venus of the Sea, as fun a day, I’d swear, as my own birthday, almost more sacred, since by the light of this dawn my friend Maecenas counts up the flow of years enriching him. Telephus, the youth you’re after—not your rank. A girl, rich and naughty, has her hooks in him and she has clamped him tight and conquered in welcoming leg irons. Phaëthon burned scares away greedy hopes and Pegasus, having thrown off the earth-heavy rider, Bellerophon, sets a serious example for you, always to follow what is right, and avoid someone so different, knowing it is wrong to hope for more than is allowed. So come now, the last of my loves, (for I am not going to be aroused by other women) learn some lines by heart, lines which you’ll repeat with your loving voice, letting poetry fade away black care.
Song is performed by Ensemble Cantilena Antiqua early music group directed by Stefano Albarello, founded in 1987. in Bologna, Italy.