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One of two equestrian statues outside the entrance to the gardens of the Royal Palace in Naples. The statues are copies of the Horse Tamers from St. Petersburg, Russia, and were a gift to King Ferdinand II of Naples from Czar Nicholas I during a state visit to the Kingdom of the Two Sicilies in 1846
Photo by New York Scugnizzo
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February 25, 2019
Photo of the Week: The Horse Tamer in Naples
February 24, 2019
Happy Birthday Prince Carlo di Borbone!
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HRH was born in Saint Raphaël, France on February 24, 1963
Photo courtesy of Real Casa di Borbone |
February 18, 2019
Photo of the Week: Diana, Temple of Apollo in Pompeii
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| Diana, Temple of Apollo in Pompeii Photo by New York Scugnizzo |
February 16, 2019
Farewell Nibs! Now With Our Ancestors
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| Requiescat in Pace John Napoli, Sr. April 16, 1944—February 12, 2019 |
February 12, 2019
Photo of the Week: Statue of a River God on the Right Side of the Grand Staircase
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| Statua di Divinita Fluviale on the right side of the grand staircase in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Roman, second century A.D. Photo by New York Scugnizzo |
February 11, 2019
Distributing Food to the Homeless on the Feast of San Lorenzo Maiorano
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| Thank you to this month's volunteers: Bobby, James, Tony, Ray and Anna (our photographer) |
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| Once again, our friends at Caffé Napoli donated a delicious tray of food |
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| Care packages were stuffed with ready to eat food, toiletries and winter hats and gloves |
Originally posted in The Constantinian Chronicle
February 10, 2019
Briganti Field Trip: Maker of Middle-Earth Exhibit at the Morgan Library & Museum
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| Lamppost banner on Madison Avenue Photos by New York Scugnizzo |
"It's like lightning from a clear sky!" ~ C.S. Lewis, review of The Fellowship of the RingFor our first official gathering, members of Il Regno’s nascent Briganti Book and Gaming Club met Saturday afternoon at the Morgan Library & Museum (225 Madison Avenue) in Manhattan to view the newly installed J.R.R. Tolkien exhibit, “Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth.” Previously on view at the Weston Library in Oxford, England, the show will run from January 25 through May 12, 2019.
Arriving early, our fellowship entered the Engelhard Gallery on the second floor through a replica hobbit hole doorway and leisurely perused it’s many wondrous objects. Displayed on walls and beneath glass cases, the space featured a nice selection of family photographs, memorabilia, illustrations, maps, manuscripts and designs connected to Tolkien’s Middle-earth (The Hobbit, The Lord of the Rings, and The Silmarillion). Boasting 117 items in all, the exhibit is touted as “the largest collection of Tolkien material ever assembled in the United States.” Sadly, photography is strictly prohibited in the gallery.
In addition to the installations, a series of related programs are being offered for children and adults throughout the duration of the exhibit. During our visit, we were very happy to hear the cartography class geared for children ages 8-14 was sold out. The next event scheduled will be the “Tolkien and Inspiration: A Multidisciplinary Symposium” on Saturday, March 16th at 2:00PM. The full calendar of events is available online.
Having read (and loved) Tolkien’s books at an early age, they were very influential in my development. Along with the stories of King Arthur and the Knights of the Round Table, Beowulf, the Brothers Grimm, et al., they were the fountainhead of my passion for fantasy and science fiction (SF) and led me to the works of Robert E. Howard, Edgar Rice Burroughs, and H.P. Lovecraft, not to mention Homer, Virgil, and Snorri Sturluson.
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| The Hobbit DVD |
Admittedly, my first exposure to Tolkien wasn’t from reading, but through the animated television special of The Hobbit (1977), directed by Arthur Rankin and Jules Bass (Rankin/Bass Productions). Though a young boy, I still remember it like it was yesterday. Feeling a little under the weather, my mother tucked me into my parents’ bed because their bedroom had a spare television set. She must have known about the premier before hand because the timing was just right.
Doing a little Internet sleuthing, I learned the cartoon aired on Sunday, November 27, 1977.
Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, I watched in wonder as Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf the Wizard, and a company of dwarves battled giant spiders, trolls, warg riding goblins, and, of course, the dragon Smaug. Up till then, my experience with SF was limited to comic books and the old black and white movies I watched with my grandfather, like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, King Kong, and so forth. Much like Andy Serkis’ acclaimed portrayal in the later Peter Jackson trilogy, Gollum was one of the more memorable characters in the film.
Unlike anything I’ve ever seen before, I watched in wonder as Bilbo Baggins, Gandalf the Wizard, and a company of dwarves battled giant spiders, trolls, warg riding goblins, and, of course, the dragon Smaug. Up till then, my experience with SF was limited to comic books and the old black and white movies I watched with my grandfather, like 20,000 Leagues Under the Sea, King Kong, and so forth. Much like Andy Serkis’ acclaimed portrayal in the later Peter Jackson trilogy, Gollum was one of the more memorable characters in the film.
A few years later, I would be able to watch the cartoon as often as I pleased when my father brought home an RCA Capacitance Electronic Disc (CED) player. The Hobbit, as well as Ralph Bakshi’s adaptation of The Lord of the Rings (Warner Brothers, 1978), was among the handful of “video discs” I had before the outmoded system was replaced by the short-lived Betamax format. I believe my long-lost copy of The Return of the King (Rankin/Bass Productions, 1980) was on VHS.
The other CED discs I remember owning were Time Bandits (1981), The Bad News Bears (1976) and the highly inappropriate Barbarella (1968) starring Jane Fonda. The latter, unquestionably, was mistakenly conflated with Flash Gordon and Buck Rogers, because there was no way my parents would have knowingly allowed me to watch a naked strumpet floating around in outer space, but I digress.
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| My autographed cel from Ralph Bakshi's animated The Lord of the Rings movie |
Not one to collect pop memorabilia (books, stamps and art postcards are my weakness), I do possess two items of note. The first is an autographed cel from Bakshi’s The Lord of the Rings film depicting the heroic hobbit Frodo Baggins holding his uncle Bilbo’s elvish blade Sting to Gollum’s exposed and cadaverous throat. The other is a limited edition Frank Frazetta "Women of the Ages" portfolio signed by the artist. Both items were a gift from an old friend.
Frazetta, like Tolkien, was very inspirational to me. His pen and ink illustrations of The Lord of the Rings in my, sadly falling apart, first edition copy of Frank Frazetta: The Living Legend (Sun Litho Print/Frank Frazer, 1981) are among my favorites. Ironically, Frazetta’s dark and sinister drawings are more how I envision Middle-earth to be than Tolkien’s own illustrations, despite how beautiful they are.
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An immodest Éowyn decapitating a Fell Beast
from my copy of Frank Frazetta: The Living Legend |
Having in the past only seen some of the amazing artifacts on display at the Morgan Library & Museum in books or magazines, it was a great thrill to actually view the originals in person—similar to when I got to see Otto Dix’s Der Krieg prints, which I was so fascinated with as an adolescent, at the “Chaos and Classicism” exhibit at the Guggenheim Museum in 2010. While we can never underestimate the importance of reproductions in print and online galleries, they almost never do justice to the originals; nor can they take the place of experiencing art in the flesh.
Be that as it may, I still bought myself a keepsake copy of Catherine McIlwaine's illustrated exhibition catalogue Tolkien: Treasures (Boldleian Library, 2018) and a few postcards for my collection.
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| Before leaving, I picked up few souvenirs: (L-R) Museum bulletin; Tolkien: Treasures by Catherine McIlwaine; crankshaft music box that plays "Happy Birthday;" and postcards (Hunting the Wild Boar; Running Eros, Holding a Torch; Bellerophon Killing the Chimera; Conversion of St. Hubert; and The Siren) |
If you are a fan, the “Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth” exhibit is definitely worth the trip. It brought back a lot of great childhood memories and has me itching to read the books again. See it before it leaves for the Bibliothèque nationale de France in Paris later this year.
For more on the Morgan Library & Museum and “Tolkien: Maker of Middle-earth” visit www.themorgan.org.
Addendum
Addendum
Afterward, we took the opportunity to explore the beautiful Morgan Library and Museum collection. Highlights included:
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| Ceramic relief by the Renaissance sculptor Lucia della Robbia (1400-1482) on the rotunda ceiling over the door opposite the library's grand entrance. |
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| Pierpont Morgan's 1906 Library |
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| The Guttenberg Bible |
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| Jeweled cover of the Lindau Gospels, France, workshop of Charles the Bald, ca. 870-80 |
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| Running Eros, Holding a Torch, Boscoreale, Campania, second or first century BC |
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| Blast: Review of the Great English Vortex, No. 2 by Wyndham Lewis (1882-1957) |
February 8, 2019
The Search for our Ancestry (LVI)
A Flood of On-Line Records
By Angelo Coniglio
A belief of the Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-Day Saints (‘LDS’ or ‘Mormon’) is that reunion with family and ancestors in the afterlife is possible if those ancestors are properly identified and included in one’s ‘family tree’. This has led the church to find and record documents from all over the world, including birth, baptism, marriage and death records, as well as other ‘vital statistics.’ These documents were photographed or photocopied and reproduced in miniaturized form on microfiche or microfilm. A microfiche is a small (4 in. by 5 in.) sheet of celluloid that can hold many miniaturized images. A microfilm is similar, with the images on a roll of celluloid film. The microfilms have ‘still’ images of records, not motion pictures. Both 16 millimeter and 35 millimeter film was used. A magnifying viewer is required for both fiches and films, and usually such viewers are dual-purpose.
Eventually, microfiches were phased out, and microfilm was the main resource for researching the records compiled by the LDS. These were available for rental to anyone (including non-Mormons) for a small charge, and once they were shipped to local Mormon Family History Centers (FHCs) they were viewable there for free, to any patron. The microfilms are organized by city or town of origin, then by civil or ecclesiastic records, then by year and type. The research approach was to determine one’s ancestral town, then order the microfilm for that town for the year(s) of interest and the type of record to be searched (civil birth, marriage or death, church baptism, etc.).
In recent years, the LDS church began uploading images of the records held on microfilm to its on-line site, www.familysearch.org and currently, all but a .few Sicilian and Italian records are available, to one degree or another, on line. This was done because of the ephemeral nature of microfilm: it won’t last forever. Before further discussing online images, the terms involved should be understood:
Digitizing is the process of scanning an image (whether from a sheet of paper or from a microfilm) and reproducing it in electronic format that can be stored on a computer, viewed, transmitted, etc. When you scan a photo that was made ‘the old-fashioned way’ with photographic film and printed on paper, and store that image on your computer or post it on Facebook, etc, you are ‘digitizing’ that photo. The LDS has on microfilm over 3.5 billion images of individual records that had to be digitized.
Once a microfilm film and its records are digitized, the images can be made available on line. These images, obviously, are in Italian, and researching them is no different in principle than scrolling through a microfilm. Image enhancement does make some of the records clearer than those on the original microfilm. To make searches less difficult, the LDS is in the process of ‘indexing’ these on-line images.
Indexing requires a person (in this case one of many volunteers) to view an image of each record and to enter summarized information in a predetermined format that can then be ‘searched’ by users. For example, from a detailed birth record, the indexer might record the birth date and place, the child’s name and the names of its parents. Then a researcher (you) can go to the desired town’s records on the familysearch site and enter, say, the child’s name to see the transcribed information, in English, often with a link to the image of the actual original record.
Using indexed material may make it easier to find information, but I recommend that even if indexed, you should always view the original record if possible. There are at least two reasons for this: 1) only bare-bones information is indexed. The summary of a birth, for example, won’t give the father’s age or occupation, nor the street address where the child was born, nor other facts that may be seen only on the original record; and 2) the indexed record is a secondary record. Someone has read the original and entered information as he/she interpreted it. Dates, names and places may be incorrect, because of the unfamiliarity of the indexer with the original language or handwriting. Often these errors mean that when you search by name, the record can’t be found, only because the indexer has misspelled the name.
Coniglio is the author of the book The Lady of the Wheel, inspired by his Sicilian research. Order the paperback or the Kindle version at www.bit.ly/SicilianStory Coniglio’s web page at http://bit.ly/AFCGen has helpul hints on genealogic research. If you have genealogy questions, or would like him to lecture to your club or group, e-mail him at genealogytips@aol.com.
February 5, 2019
Meridiunalata X: Notes on Coming Home by He Zhizhang
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| 賀知章 (He Zhizhang) |
賀知章
少小離家老大回
鄉音無改鬢毛摧(衰)
兒童相見不相識
笑問客從何處來
Notes on Coming Home*
By He Zhizhang (659-744, Tang Dynasty)
I come home an old man; I went away young.
My accent has not changed but my hair is now gray.
I meet some village children, I am a stranger to them.
Smiling, they ask me, "Where do you come from?"
Notarelle Ncopp’’O Turnà a Casa
De He Zhizhang (659-744, Dinastia Tang)
I’ mo torno a casa nu viecchio; ca gióvene i’ partette.
L’acciento mio nun ha cagnato ma ‘e capille mieje sò ghianche.
Veco ‘e ppiccerille d’’o pajese, pe chille songo nu forestiero.
Surridenno, m’addimánnano, “’Addò bbenite vuje?”
Translated by Cav. Avv. Charles Sant’Elia
February 4, 2019
Photo of the Week: Statue of a River God on the Left Side of the Grand Staircase
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| Statua di Divinita Fluviale on the left side of the grand staircase in the Museo Archeologico Nazionale di Napoli. Roman, second century A.D. Photo by New York Scugnizzo |
February 3, 2019
New Books (February 2019)
New and forthcoming titles that may be of interest to our readers. All are available at Amazon.com
• Sicily: Heritage of the World edited by Dirk Booms and Peter John Higgs
Publisher: British MuseumPublication Date: July 31, 2019
Paperback: $80.00
Language: English
Pages: 200
• The Time Traveler’s Guide to Sicily: History for Visitors by Louis Mendola
Publisher: Trinacria Editions LLCPublication Date: October 2, 2019
Paperback: $34.00
Language: English
Pages: 370
January 31, 2019
Lithograph of Blessed Maria Cristina of Savoy, Queen of the Two Sicilies
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| B. Nov. 14, 1812, Cagliari—D. Jan. 31, 1836, Napoli |
In honor of her Feast Day, we’re posting a picture of a lithographic print of Blessed Maria Cristina of Savoy, the first Queen Consort of Ferdinand II of the Two Sicilies, from the private collection of John M. Viola.
January 28, 2019
Feast of Beato Carlo Magno
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| Carolo Magno Imperatore, ora pro nobis |
Prayer to Blessed Charlemagne
Hail, O Charles, beloved of God, Apostle of Christ, defender of His Church, protector of justice, guardian of good customs, terror of the enemies of the Christian name!
The tainted diadem of the Caesars - purified by the hands of Leo - sits on your august forehead; the globe of the Empire rests in your vigorous hand; the ever-victorious sword in your combats for Our Lord is sheathed at your waist, and on your forehead the imperial anointing was added to the royal unction by the hand of the Pontiff who consecrated you and confirmed your authority. As the representative of the figure of Christ in His temporal Royalty, you desired that He would reign in you and through you.
Now God rewards you for the love you had for Him, for the zeal you displayed for His glory, for the respect and confidence you showed toward His Spouse. In exchange for an earthly kingship, transitory and uncertain, you enjoy now an immortal kingdom where so many million of souls, who by your hands escaped idolatry, today honor you as the instrument of their salvation.
During the days of celebration of the birth of Our Lord by Our Lady, you offered to them the gracious temple you built in their honor (the Basilica of Aix-la-Chapelle), and which is still today the object of our admiration. It was in this place that your pious hands placed the newborn garment worn by her Divine Son. As retribution, the Son of God desired that your bones should gloriously rest in the same place to receive the testimony of the veneration of the peoples.
O glorious heir to the three Magi Kings of the East, present our souls before the One who wore such a humble garment. Ask Him to give us a part of the profound humility you had as you knelt before the Manger, a part of that great joy that filled your heart at Christmas, a part of that fiery zeal that made you realize so many works for the glory of the Infant Christ, and a part of that great strength that never abandoned you in your conquests for His Kingdom.
O mighty Emperor, you who of old was the arbiter of the whole European family assembled under your scepter, have mercy on this society that today is being destroyed in all its parts. After more than a thousand years, the Empire that the Church placed in your hands has collapsed as a chastisement for its infidelity to the Church that founded it. The nations still remain, troubled and afflicted. Only the Church can return life to them through the Faith; only she continues to be the depositary of public law; only she can govern the powerful and bless the obedient.
O Charles the Great, we beseech you to make that day arrive soon when society, re-established at its foundations, will cease asking liberty and order from the revolutions. Protect with a special love France, the most splendid flower of your magnificent crown. Show that you are always her king and father. Put an end to the false progress of the faithless empires of the North that have fallen into schism and heresy, and do not permit the peoples of the Holy Empire to fall prisoner to them.
Photo of the Week: Beato Carlo Magno, Facade of the Chiesa di San Luigi dei Francesi in Rome
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| Beato Carlo Magno, Chiesa di San Luigi dei Francesi, Roma Photo by New York Scugnizzo |
January 26, 2019
New Music: Neapolitan Cantatas by Hasse, Mancini, Porpora, Porsile
• Neapolitan Cantatas by Hasse, Mancini, Porpora, Porsile
Label: Brilliant Classics
Release Date: February 8, 2019
Audio CD: $na
Number of Discs: 1
Available at Amazon.com
Read description
January 24, 2019
Our New Header
Unfortunately the blog’s template doesn’t allow the header to expand, so we’re posting the image here, highlighting some details, in an attempt to circumvent the limitation and allow viewers to get a better look.
On the right side of the header we see the demigod Heracles, son of Zeus and Alcmene, reclining on a sun-drenched hilltop somewhere in Sicily. Swathe in the skin of the Nemean lion, the burly hero holds a golden fleur-de-lis, the ancient symbol of the Royal House of Bourbon. At his side lies a toppled pillar and a bust of Archimedes, Sicily’s greatest inventor and mathematician. In the background Mt. Etna smolders.
To the left, we see the Siren Partenope emerging from the Sea holding aloft the coat-of-arms of the Royal House of Bourbon-Two Sicilies. Hovering above is Tyche, the Greek goddess of fortune and prosperity. Her mural crown with an unbridled horse on the crest is the emblem of the city of Naples. The tutelary deity also carries a golden shield emblazoned with the Trinacria, the ancient symbol of Sicily. Behind them sprawls Napoli, the capital of the ancient kingdom, and her beautiful Bay. Looming in the distance is sleeping Vesuvius.
January 23, 2019
Birthday Weekend
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| Enjoying dinner and drinks at Peppino's with my San Rocco confratelli |
Many thanks to family and friends for a terrific birthday weekend, may God bless you all!
Boys Night Out
The festivities began Friday night with my San Rocco Society brethren at the always roisterous monthly “boys’ night out” dinner at Peppino’s Restaurant (7708 3rd Ave.) in Bay Ridge, Brooklyn. Looking to pick up where we left off the night before at the falò di Sant'Antuono, our jovial party ate and drank its fill of chef Mancino’s hearty fare.
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Seppie ripiene al forno |
In addition to the usual hot and cold antipasti (insalata di mare, vongole al forno, cozze alla marinara, etc.) we were treated to a couple of the evening specials, crostini con burrata and tender seppie ripiene al forno, stuffed cuttlefish.
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| Crostini con burrata |
For my entrée I enjoyed the perfectly cooked baccalà oreganata with a side of scarola aglio e olio.
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| Baccalà oreganata |
Saturday, an old friend surprised me with a few thoughtful gifts. Knowing I’m a bit of a bibliophile and what my interests are, he gave me Emilio Lussu’s A Soldier on the Southern Front (Rizzoli Ex Libris, 2014), E.M. Cioran’s Tears and Saints (University of Chicago Press, 1998), and a bottle of Jägermeister.
The Jägermeister harks back to our younger days, when the herbal liqueur was our drink of choice while sitting around the campfire. Though it’s been some time since I’ve gone camping (and it's much easier now to find southern Italian amaro), we still enjoy doing shots after dinner whenever my friends and I eat at a German restaurant. We always have a glass on September 20th for the Feast of Sant’Eustachio (Saint Eustace), who along with Saint Hubertus is the inspiration for the stag and radiant cross logo on the label.
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| Cavatelli con ragù alla Napoletana |
Birthday Tradition
After morning Mass, I spent a relaxing day with family playing chess, watching the playoffs, and enjoying our traditional Sunday repast, replete with southern Italian delicacies, including my favorite, cavatelli con ragù alla Napoletana.
Though far less extravagant, my customary birthday dinner vies with Christmas Eve (la vigilia di Natale), St. Joseph’s Day (la tavola di San Giuseppe) and Thanksgiving for my favorite meal of the year. Failing to blow out the 50 candles on my cake on the first try, my wish didn’t come true, and like all good things must, my amazing birthday weekend came to an end.
January 21, 2019
Photo of the Week: Commemorative Medal for the 280th Anniversary of the Coronation of Carlo di Borbone
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| Commemorative medal from the private collection of John M. Viola Photo by New York Scugnizzo |
January 19, 2019
Meridiunalata IX: "The Raven" by Edgar Allan Poe Translated into Neapolitan
The Raven
Edgar Allan Poe
Once upon a midnight dreary, while I pondered, weak and weary,
Over many a quaint and curious volume of forgotten lore—
While I nodded, nearly napping, suddenly there came a tapping,
As of some one gently rapping, rapping at my chamber door.
“’Tis some visitor,” I muttered, “tapping at my chamber door—
Only this and nothing more.”
Ah, distinctly I remember it was in the bleak December;
And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.
Eagerly I wished the morrow;—vainly I had sought to borrow
From my books surcease of sorrow—sorrow for the lost Lenore—
For the rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Nameless here for evermore.
And the silken, sad, uncertain rustling of each purple curtain
Thrilled me—filled me with fantastic terrors never felt before;
So that now, to still the beating of my heart, I stood repeating
“’Tis some visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door—
Some late visitor entreating entrance at my chamber door;—
This it is and nothing more.”
Presently my soul grew stronger; hesitating then no longer,
“Sir,” said I, “or Madam, truly your forgiveness I implore;
But the fact is I was napping, and so gently you came rapping,
And so faintly you came tapping, tapping at my chamber door,
That I scarce was sure I heard you”—here I opened wide the door;—
Darkness there and nothing more.
Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there
wondering, fearing,
Doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before;
But the silence was unbroken, and the stillness gave no token,
And the only word there spoken was the whispered word, “Lenore?”
This I whispered, and an echo murmured back the word, “Lenore!”—
Merely this and nothing more.
Back into the chamber turning, all my soul within me burning,
Soon again I heard a tapping somewhat louder than before.
“Surely,” said I, “surely that is something at my window lattice;
Let me see, then, what thereat is, and this mystery explore—
Let my heart be still a moment and this mystery explore;—
’Tis the wind and nothing more!”
Open here I flung the shutter, when, with many a flirt and flutter,
In there stepped a stately Raven of the saintly days of yore;
Not the least obeisance made he; not a minute stopped or stayed he;
But, with mien of lord or lady, perched above my chamber door—
Perched upon a bust of Pallas just above my chamber door—
Perched, and sat, and nothing more.
Then this ebony bird beguiling my sad fancy into smiling,
By the grave and stern decorum of the countenance it wore,
“Though thy crest be shorn and shaven, thou,” I said, “art sure
no craven,
Ghastly grim and ancient Raven wandering from the Nightly shore—
Tell me what thy lordly name is on the Night’s Plutonian shore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
Much I marvelled this ungainly fowl to hear discourse so plainly,
Though its answer little meaning—little relevancy bore;
For we cannot help agreeing that no living human being
Ever yet was blessed with seeing bird above his chamber door—
Bird or beast upon the sculptured bust above his chamber door,
With such name as “Nevermore.”
But the Raven, sitting lonely on the placid bust, spoke only
That one word, as if his soul in that one word he did outpour.
Nothing farther then he uttered—not a feather then he fluttered—
Till I scarcely more than muttered “Other friends have flown before—
On the morrow he will leave me, as my Hopes have flown before.”
Then the bird said “Nevermore.”
Startled at the stillness broken by reply so aptly spoken,
“Doubtless,” said I, “what it utters is its only stock and store
Caught from some unhappy master whom unmerciful Disaster
Followed fast and followed faster till his songs one burden bore—
Till the dirges of his Hope that melancholy burden bore
Of ‘Never—nevermore’.”
But the Raven still beguiling all my fancy into smiling,
Straight I wheeled a cushioned seat in front of bird,
and bust and door;
Then, upon the velvet sinking, I betook myself to linking
Fancy unto fancy, thinking what this ominous bird of yore—
What this grim, ungainly, ghastly, gaunt, and ominous bird of yore
Meant in croaking “Nevermore.”
This I sat engaged in guessing, but no syllable expressing
To the fowl whose fiery eyes now burned into my bosom’s core;
This and more I sat divining, with my head at ease reclining
On the cushion’s velvet lining that the lamp-light gloated o’er,
But whose velvet-violet lining with the lamp-light gloating o’er,
She shall press, ah, nevermore!
Then, methought, the air grew denser, perfumed from an
unseen censer
Swung by Seraphim whose foot-falls tinkled on the tufted floor.
“Wretch,” I cried, “thy God hath lent thee—by these angels he
hath sent thee
Respite—respite and nepenthe from thy memories of Lenore;
Quaff, oh quaff this kind nepenthe and forget this lost Lenore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!—
Whether Tempter sent, or whether tempest tossed thee here ashore,
Desolate yet all undaunted, on this desert land enchanted—
On this home by Horror haunted—tell me truly, I implore—
Is there—is there balm in Gilead?—tell me—tell me, I implore!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Prophet!” said I, “thing of evil!—prophet still, if bird or devil!
By that Heaven that bends above us—by that God we both adore—
Tell this soul with sorrow laden if, within the distant Aidenn,
It shall clasp a sainted maiden whom the angels name Lenore—
Clasp a rare and radiant maiden whom the angels name Lenore.”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
“Be that word our sign of parting, bird or fiend!” I shrieked,
upstarting—
“Get thee back into the tempest and the Night’s Plutonian shore!
Leave no black plume as a token of that lie thy soul hath spoken!
Leave my loneliness unbroken!—quit the bust above my door!
Take thy beak from out my heart, and take thy form from
off my door!”
Quoth the Raven “Nevermore.”
And the Raven, never flitting, still is sitting, still is sitting
On the pallid bust of Pallas just above my chamber door;
And his eyes have all the seeming of a demon’s that is dreaming,
And the lamp-light o’er him streaming throws his shadow on the floor;
And my soul from out that shadow that lies floating on the floor
Shall be lifted—nevermore!
Lo Cuorvo
Edgar Allan Poe
(traduzione napoletana di Cav. Charles Sant’Elia)
Na mezanotte cupa, pe tramente i’ stancato e débbule, penzavo,
Ncopp’a assaje libbre curiuse e bizzarre de storia scurdata—
Pe tramente capozzejavo, quase addormuto, de botta venette
no tozzolejà,
Comme fosse quaccheduno tozzolejanno, tozzolejanno a la porta de
la cámmera mia.
"Nce stesse no visitatore" me dicette nfra de mme "ca tozzoléja a la porta de la cámmera mia—
Sulo chesto e niente cchiù. "
Ah, m’arrecordo chiaro e tunno chillo dicembre cupo e niro;
E d’ogne tezzone ca mureva smiccejavo ‘o fantésema ncopp’a lo suolo.
Co mpaciénzia vulevo lo juorno;—mmáttola cercavo
da li libbre mieje sullazzo de lo dulore—dulore pe la Lenora perduta—
Pe la picciotta rara e brillante ca li ángele chiámmano Lenora—
Ca nisciuno ccà, ha dda chiammà maje cchiù.
E co lo fruscio appecundruto de seta d’ogne tenna purpúreja
Me sentevo lo friddo ncuollo—me regneva co paure fantastiche
maje sentute;
Ca mo, pe fà stà zitto lo vátteto de lo core mio, i’ tornavo a dícere:
“Nce stesse no visitatore ca cerca de trasì a la porta de la
cámmera mia—
Quaccheduno attardato ca cerca de trasì a la porta de la
cámmera mia;—
È sulo chesto e niente cchiù.”
Po me facette cchiù core e senza cchiù me ntricà
"Signore," i’ dicette, "o Signora, ve prego, perdonáteme,
Ma stevo no poco addurmuto, e accossì lieggio veníveve a tozzolejà,
Ca sto tozzolejà vuosto m’ha fatto dubbità
De v’avè sentuto overamente".- Po ccà i’ spaparanzaje la porta:—
Nce steva lo scuro e niente cchiù.
Tenenno mente int’a lo scuro, assaje i’ restaje, pensano,
metténnome appaura,
Dubbitanno, sunnanno suonne ca nisciuno cristiano ha osato
sunnà maje primma;
Ma lo silenzio nun fuje rutto, e la carma nun dette treva,
E la sola parola lloco pronunziata fuje, “Lenora?”
Chesta i’ zuzzurraje, e n’eco accopp’a la mano ace
murmulejaje, “Lenora!”—
Sulo chesto e niente cchiù.
Int’a la cámmera mia votanno, tutta l’ánema mia c’abbrusciava,
Ampressa n’ata vota sentette a no tozzolejà no tantillo chi
forte de primma.
“Cierto” dicette i’, “cierto ha dda éssere quaccosa a la mposta mia;
Famme vedé, po, chello ca nce stesse, e chisto mistério appurà—
Fa’ stà cojeto lo core mio no momento e chisto mistério appurà;—
È lo viento e niente cchiù!”
Tanno i’ spaparanzaje la mposta, quanno, sbattenno assaje le scelle,
Trasette no Cuorvo majestuso de li tiempe sante antiche;
Manco na leverénzia facette isso; manco no zico se fremmaje
o restaje;
Ma, co aria de damma o de cavaliere, se posaje ncopp’a la porta mia—
Se posaje ncopp’a no busto de Minerva ncopp’a la porta mia—
Se posaje, e s’assettaje, e niente cchiù.
Po chist’auciello d’ébbano co lo decoro austero e tuosto de la
faccia soja
Mezzejaje le fantasíe appecundrose mieje a no sorriso,
“Pure si la cresta toja è rasata e carosella,” dicette i’, “tu nun sì
no meschino,
Cuorvo tristemente cupo e antico, arrante da la riva Notturna—
Qual’è lo nomme nóbbele tujo a la riva Plutonia de la Notte!”
Dicette lo Cuorvo “Maje Cchiù.”
Assaje mme maravegliaje a sentì parlà accossì chiaro
st’auciello sgrazziato,
Pure si la resposta soja poco vuleva dì—poca rilevanza teneva;
Ca tuttequante fósseno d’accordo ca nisciuno cristiano
Ha maje visto ncopp’a la porta soja—
Nè auciello nè béstia ncopp’a lo busto ncopp’a la porta soja,
Co tanto de nomme comm’a “Maje Cchiù.”
Ma lo Cuorvo, assettato sulagno ncopp’a lo busto práceto, dicette sulo
Chelle parole, comme si tutta l’ánema jettava int’a chelle llà,
Niente cchiù dicette—manco na penna sbattette—
Nfì ca nun murmulejaje “Ate compagne già volájeno—
Craje isso m’ha dda lassà, comme già volájeno le speranze meje.”
Tanno l’auciello dicette “Maje Cchiù.”
Appaurato a lo silénzio rutto da tale resposta justo justo parlata,
“Certamente,” dicette i’, “chello ca dice ha dda éssere lo solo
repertório sujo
Mparato da quacche patrone poveriello ca da lo Desasto spiatato
Secutato e secutato ampressa nfì ca no sulo ritornello tenetténo
li cante suoje—
Nfì ca li cante fúnebbre de la Speranza soja chillo piso
malincóneco portájeno
De ‘Maje—maje cchiù’.”
Ma lo Cuorvo ancora abbaglianno tutte le fantasie meje nzí a la resella,
I’ jettaje nnanz’a l’auciello, lo busto e la porta na potrona vellutata;
Po, pe tramente lo velluto cadeva, me mettevo a penzà
Fantasia appriess’a fantasia, penzanno ca st’auciello malauriuso
antico—
Che cosa maje chist’auciello sivero, sgrazziato, malauriuso e turdo
Voleva dícere ciaulejanno “Maje Cchiù.”
Accossí rommanevo assettato, addivinanno, ma senza dì na parola
A ll’auciello co ll’uocchie suoje ca m’abbrusciávano ncore;
Chesto e ate cose ancora addivinavo, co la capa mia
Acalata ncopp’a lo velluto de lo cuscino addò luceva la lampa,
Ncopp’a lo culore viola de lo velluto addò luceva,
Chillo ca Essa nun ha dda prémmere, ah, maje cchiù!
Po, me pareva ca l’aria se faceva cchiù denza, profumata
da no ncenziere annascuso,
Pennulejato da Zarrafine, li passe lloro rentinnejanno
ncopp’a lo tappeto.
“Meschino,” i’ alluccaje, “Dio t’ha mannato- co chist’ángele
t’ha mannato
Abbiento—abbiento e nepente da le memmórie de Lenora;
Vevetillo, oh vevetillo chisto nepente e scordatella cheta
Lenora perduta!”
Dicette lo Cuorvo, “Maje Cchiù”
“Profeta!” dicette i’, “cosa de lo male!—profeta pure, si auciello
o diávulo!—
O mannato da ll’Avverzário, o trascinato da lla tempesta a rriva ccà,
Desolato ma nzisto, a sta terra deserta e affatata—
A sta casa da ll’Orrore secutato—dimmello, famme sta grázia—
Nce sta—nce sta no bárzamo a Gallâde?—dimme—dimme,
famme sta grázia!”
Dicette lo Cuorvo “Maje Cchiù.”
“Profeta!” dicette i’, “cosa de lo male!—profeta pure, si auciello
o diávulo!
Pe lo Cielo ca da llà ncoppa s’acala a nuje—pe chillo Dio ca
addorammo nuje duje—
Di’ a st’ánema addulorata mia, si a ll’Èddene lontano,
Ha dda abbraccià n’ata vota a na picciotta santa ca li ángele
chiámmano Lenora—
Ha dda abbraccià a na picciotta rara e brillante ca li ángel
chiámmano Lenora.”
Dicette lo Cuorvo “Maje Cchiù.”
“Ca fósseno le parole d’addio, auciello o criatura de lo male!”
i’ alluccaje, auzánnome—
“Tornatenne a lla tempesta e a lla riva Plutonia de la Notte!
Nun lassà na sola penna nera comme signo de la buscía ch’he ditto!
Lassa l’appecundría mia accossí!—lassa lo busto ncopp’a lla porta mia!
Leva lo pizzo da dint’a lo core mio, e la fiura toja d’accopp’a lla porta!”
Dicette lo Cuorvo “Maje Cchiù.”
E lo Cuorvo, maje sbolacchianno, sta ancora assettato,
ancora assettato
Ncopp’a lo busto pálleto de Minerva justo ncopp’a la porta
de la cámmera mia;
E páreno ll’uocchie suoje própeto chille de no demmónio ca sonna,
E la luce de la lampa jetta nterra ll’ombra soja ncopp’a lo suolo;
E l’ánema mia da chell’ombra ca jace abbolanno ncopp’a lo suolo
Nun s’auzarrà —maje cchiù!
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