Hebrus River
I assume you guys expect something entirely different in this letter since I have gone on a journey no Christian has undertaken in about a century! The most interesting thing that happened to me was being nearly overturned in the Hebrus river, and if I at all cared for the praises one receives once they die, I'd be sorry for having missed the conclusion of swimming down the same river in which the head of Orpheus repeated verses such a long time ago:
Caput a cervice revulsum,
Gurgite cum medio, portans Oeagrius Hebrus
Volveret, Euridicen vox ipsa, et frigida lingua
Ah! Miseram Euridicen anima fugiente vocabat,
Euridicen toto referebant flumine ripae. [1]
Who knows, maybe some of Alexander Pope’s witty friends might have found it a subject worth writing about.
At the moment, I am writing in a house situated on the banks of the Hebrus, which runs just under my window. My garden is full of tall cypress trees. My mind is filled with poetic thoughts right now! Summer has already arrived in this part of the world and the ground of Adrianople is laid out in gardens, and the banks of the river is set with rows of fruit trees. The Turks hang out there every evening. They choose a spot in the shade, spread out a carpet to sit and drink their coffee. The slaves entertain them by singing or playing instruments. Mr. Addison might here make the experiments he discusses in his travels; there isn’t one instrument among the Greek or Roman statues that is not played here.
I read Pope’s translation of Homer and found some passages that I didn't really understand the beauty of before. Much of the ancient Greek dress and fashion is still retained in Turkey. I seem to find remains of ancient Greece here in Turkey that can’t be found in any other country. It would be tedious to point out all of the similarities, but, for example, the princesses and great ladies spend their time embroidering veils in the same way we find Andromache and Helen described in The Illiad.
I should tell you a bit about the language here. The common Turk is very different from what is spoken at Court (which is a mixture of Arabic and Persian); it’s ridiculous to use common expressions when talking to a great man or lady just as it would be to speak broad Yorkshire or Somersetshire in the drawing room. The Turks have what they call a “sublime language,” a style that’s proper for poetry. I am sure you’d want to see an example of their finest poetry, and I’m happy to show you a copy of the verses that Ibrahim Bassa, a man of wit and learning, wrote for his princess, wife-to-be. I think you’ll agree this poem resembles the Song of Solomon, which was also written for a royal bride!
Stanza 1st
The nightingale now wanders in the vines;
Her passion is to seek roses.
I went down to admire the beauty of the vines;
The sweetness of your charms has ravished my soul.
Your eyes are black and lovely,
But wild and disdainful as those of a stag.
Stanza 2nd
The wished possession is delayed from day to day;
The cruel Sultan Achmed will not permit me to see those cheeks, more vermilion than roses.
I dare not snatch one of your kisses;
The sweetness of your charms has ravish'd my soul.
Your eyes are black and lovely,
But wild and disdainful as those of a stag.
Stanza 3rd
The wretched Pasha Ibrahim sighs in these verses;
One dart from your eyes has pierc'd thro' my heart.
Ah! when will the hour of possession arrive?
Must I yet wait a long time?
The sweetness of your charms has ravished my soul.
Ah! Sultana! stag-eyed, an angel amongst angels!
I desire and, my desire remains unsatisfied.
Can you take delight to prey upon my heart?
Stanza 4th
My cries pierce the heavens,
My eyes are without sleep,
Turn to me, Sultana, let me gaze on thy beauty.
Adieu, I go down to the grave.
If you call me, I return.
My heart is hot as sulphur; sigh, and it will flame.
Crown of my life! fair light of my eyes, my Sultana, my
princess.
I rub my face against the earth: I am drown'd in scalding tears,
I rave!
Have you no compassion? Will you not turn to look upon me?
It was really difficult for me to get these verses in a literal translation! The repetitions at the end of the first two stanzas are meant to sound musical; this is similar to the ancient manner of writing. The music of the verses seems to change in the third stanza, and he is more compassionate in the conclusion (where the “heart” is concerned). I feel this conclusion is more touching than our common practice of concluding a song of passion.
See? I’ve gone pretty far in my oriental learning, and honestly, I study very hard. I hope that my studies will allow me to continue entertaining you!
Caput a cervice revulsum,
Gurgite cum medio, portans Oeagrius Hebrus
Volveret, Euridicen vox ipsa, et frigida lingua
Ah! Miseram Euridicen anima fugiente vocabat,
Euridicen toto referebant flumine ripae. [1]
Who knows, maybe some of Alexander Pope’s witty friends might have found it a subject worth writing about.
At the moment, I am writing in a house situated on the banks of the Hebrus, which runs just under my window. My garden is full of tall cypress trees. My mind is filled with poetic thoughts right now! Summer has already arrived in this part of the world and the ground of Adrianople is laid out in gardens, and the banks of the river is set with rows of fruit trees. The Turks hang out there every evening. They choose a spot in the shade, spread out a carpet to sit and drink their coffee. The slaves entertain them by singing or playing instruments. Mr. Addison might here make the experiments he discusses in his travels; there isn’t one instrument among the Greek or Roman statues that is not played here.
I read Pope’s translation of Homer and found some passages that I didn't really understand the beauty of before. Much of the ancient Greek dress and fashion is still retained in Turkey. I seem to find remains of ancient Greece here in Turkey that can’t be found in any other country. It would be tedious to point out all of the similarities, but, for example, the princesses and great ladies spend their time embroidering veils in the same way we find Andromache and Helen described in The Illiad.
I should tell you a bit about the language here. The common Turk is very different from what is spoken at Court (which is a mixture of Arabic and Persian); it’s ridiculous to use common expressions when talking to a great man or lady just as it would be to speak broad Yorkshire or Somersetshire in the drawing room. The Turks have what they call a “sublime language,” a style that’s proper for poetry. I am sure you’d want to see an example of their finest poetry, and I’m happy to show you a copy of the verses that Ibrahim Bassa, a man of wit and learning, wrote for his princess, wife-to-be. I think you’ll agree this poem resembles the Song of Solomon, which was also written for a royal bride!
Stanza 1st
The nightingale now wanders in the vines;
Her passion is to seek roses.
I went down to admire the beauty of the vines;
The sweetness of your charms has ravished my soul.
Your eyes are black and lovely,
But wild and disdainful as those of a stag.
Stanza 2nd
The wished possession is delayed from day to day;
The cruel Sultan Achmed will not permit me to see those cheeks, more vermilion than roses.
I dare not snatch one of your kisses;
The sweetness of your charms has ravish'd my soul.
Your eyes are black and lovely,
But wild and disdainful as those of a stag.
Stanza 3rd
The wretched Pasha Ibrahim sighs in these verses;
One dart from your eyes has pierc'd thro' my heart.
Ah! when will the hour of possession arrive?
Must I yet wait a long time?
The sweetness of your charms has ravished my soul.
Ah! Sultana! stag-eyed, an angel amongst angels!
I desire and, my desire remains unsatisfied.
Can you take delight to prey upon my heart?
Stanza 4th
My cries pierce the heavens,
My eyes are without sleep,
Turn to me, Sultana, let me gaze on thy beauty.
Adieu, I go down to the grave.
If you call me, I return.
My heart is hot as sulphur; sigh, and it will flame.
Crown of my life! fair light of my eyes, my Sultana, my
princess.
I rub my face against the earth: I am drown'd in scalding tears,
I rave!
Have you no compassion? Will you not turn to look upon me?
It was really difficult for me to get these verses in a literal translation! The repetitions at the end of the first two stanzas are meant to sound musical; this is similar to the ancient manner of writing. The music of the verses seems to change in the third stanza, and he is more compassionate in the conclusion (where the “heart” is concerned). I feel this conclusion is more touching than our common practice of concluding a song of passion.
See? I’ve gone pretty far in my oriental learning, and honestly, I study very hard. I hope that my studies will allow me to continue entertaining you!
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