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The consolations of poetry

Something has had a violent disagreement with my stomach and has kept me up for hours. Rather than keep reading twitter and playing Sudoku I thought a post might be in order. And what better way than through the apparent magic of verse to bring comfort?

This is a short one (I’m posting from my phone), but if I recall correctly from my supine position, racked with discomfort, I based the line to follow on Aeneid 4. 653, which runs thus:

Vixi et quem dederat cursum Fortuna peregit

Dido is ready to go.

But it’s not as bleak as that. A request was made on the latinteach list for a way to say something along the lines of ‘I am in the twilight of a mediocre career.’

So from Vergil, I offered the following:

Vixi et nunc modicum cursum (vae!) paene peregi

What do you think?