English

Gilgamish, In Despair, Enquires of the Dead.

Column I.

(How the dead haunt the living).

(Then), what time that the seine had pass'd through the Architect's dwelling,
(Aye, and) the net [had taken its toll] . . . . [said he]:
" Lord, what [is't I may do] . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
(Now, what time that) the seine hath [pass'd through the Architect's dwelling],
(Aye and) the net [hath taken its toll] . . . . . . . . . . . . "
Gilgamish [unto him spake] . . . . . . . . . . . .

The Flood.

Column I.

(The Cause of the Flood).

Gilgamish unto him spake, to Uta-Napishtim the Distant:
" Uta-Napishtim, upon thee I gaze, (yet) in no wise thy presence
Strange is, (for) thou art like me, and in no wise different art thou;
Thou art like me; (yea) a stomach for fighting doth make thee consummate,
[Aye, and to rest (?)] on thy back thou dost lie. [O tell me (?)], how couldst thou
Stand in th' Assemblage of Gods to petition for life (everlasting)? "

How Gilgamish Reached Uta-Napishtim.

Column I.

(Gilgamish meets Siduri).

Dwelt Siduri, the maker of wine . . . .
Wine(?) was her trade, her trade was . . . . . . . . .
Cover'd she was with a veil and . . . . . . . . .
Gilgamish wander'd [towards her] . . . . . . . . .
Pelts was he wearing . . . . . . . . .
Flesh of the gods in [his body] possessing, but woe in [his belly],
(Aye), and his countenance like to a (man) who hath gone a far journey.
Look'd in the distance the maker of wine, (and) a word in her bosom

Gilgamish in Terror of Death Seeks Eternal Life.

Column I.

(Gilgamish determines to seek Eternal Life).

Gilgamish bitterly wept for his comrade, (for) Enkidu, ranging
Over the desert: " I, tooÔÇôshall I not die like Enkidu also?
Sorrow hath enter'd my heart; I fear death as I range o'er the desert,
I will get hence on the road to the presence of Uta-Napishtim,

ÔÇôOffspring of Ubara-Tutu is heÔÇôand with speed will I travel.
(If) 'tis in darkness that I shall arrive at the Gates of the Mountains,

Of the Mourning of Gilgamish, and What Came of it.

(The first Column is badly mutilated, and all we can glean from it is that " as soon as something of morning has dawned, " Gilgamish addressing Enkidu, compares him to a gazelle, and promises to glorify him. Then follows apparently a recital by Gilgamish of their exploits together, " mountains [we ascended,

The Death of Enkidu.

Column I.

(Enkidu's dream).

" Why, O my friend, do the great gods (now) take counsel together? "
(The remainder of the Column is lost in the Assyrian, but it can be partially supplied from the Hittite Version: " . . . Then came the day . . . [Enkidu] answered Gilgamish: '[Gilgamish, hear the] dream which I [saw] in the night: [Now Enlil], Ea, and the Sun-god of heaven . . . . [the Sun-god (?)] Enlil spake in

Of the Goddess Ishtar, Who Fell in Love With the Hero After his Exploit Against Humbaba.

Column I.

(Gilgamish is removing the stains of combat).

(Now) is he washing his stains, (and) is cleansing his garments in tatters,
Braiding (?) (the locks of) his hair (to descend loose) over his shoulders,
Laying aside his garments besmirchen, (and) donning his clean ones,
Putting on armlets (?), and girding his body about with a baldric,
Gilgamish bindeth his fillet, and girdeth himself with a baldric.

The Arrival at the Gate of the Forest.

( Of Column I about 11. 1ÔÇô36 are mutilated or missing, there being actually the beginnings of only sixteen lines. When the text becomes connected the heroes have reached the Gate of the Forest ).

Column I.

(Enkidu addresses the Gate).

Enkidu lifted [his eyes] . . . and spake with the Gate as ['t were human(?)]:
" O thou Gate of the Forest without understanding (? . . .
Sentience which thou hast not, . . . .
I for (full) forty leagues have admired thy [wonderful] timber,

THE LAST LINES OF THOMAS INGOLDSBY

A S I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,
Merrie sang the Birde as she sat upon the spraye;
There came a noble Knyghte,
With his hauberke shynynge brighte,
And his gallant heart was lyghte,
Free and gaye:
As I laye a-thynkynge, he rode upon his waye.

As I laye a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge, a-thynkynge,
Sadly sang the Birde as she sat upon the tree!

eheu fugaces.

What Horace say is,
Eheu fugaces
Anni labuntur, Postume, Postume!
Years glide away, and are lost to me, lost to me!
Now , when the folks in the dance sport their merry toes,
Taglionis and Ellslers, Duvernays and Ceritos,
Sighing I murmur, " O mihi praeteritos! "