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Confessiones (CSEL)

Caput 17

Sine me, deus meus, dicere aliquid de ingenio meo, munere tuo, in quibus a me deliramentis atterebatur. proponebatur enim mihi negotium animae meae satis inquietum, praemio laudis et dedecoris vel plagarum metu, ut dicerem verba Iunonis irascentis et dolentis, quod non possit Italia Teucrorum avertere regem: quae numquam Iunonem dixisse audieram, sed figmentorum poeticorum vestigia errantes sequi cogebamur, et tale aliquid dicere solutis verbis, quale poeta dixisset versibus: et ille dicebat laudabilius, in quo pro dignitate adumbratae personae irae ac doloris similior affectus eminebat verbis sententias congruenter vestientibus. Ut quid mihi illud, o vera vita, deus meus? quid mihi recitanti adclamabatur prae multis coaetaneis et conlectoribus meis? nonne ecce illa omnia fumus et ventus? itane aliud non erat, ubi exerceretur ingenium et lingua mea: laudes tuae, domine, laudes tuae per scripturas tuas suspenderent palmitem cordis mei, et non raperetur per inania nugarum turpis praeda volatilibus. non enim uno modo sacrificatur transgressoribus angelis.

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The Confessions of St. Augustin In Thirteen Books

Chapter XVII.--He Continues on the Unhappy Method of Training Youth in Literary Subjects.

27. Bear with me, my God, while I speak a little of those talents Thou hast bestowed upon me, and on what follies I wasted them. For a lesson sufficiently disquieting to my soul was given me, in hope of praise, and fear of shame or stripes, to speak the words of Juno, as she raged and sorrowed that she could not

"Latium bar

From all approaches of the Dardan king," ¹

which I had heard Juno never uttered. Yet were we compelled to stray in the footsteps of these poetic fictions, and to turn that into prose which the poet had said in verse. And his speaking was most applauded in whom, according to the reputation of the persons delineated, the passions of anger and sorrow were most strikingly reproduced, and clothed in the most suitable language. But what is it to me, O my true Life, my God, that my declaiming was applauded above that of many who were my contemporaries and fellow-students? Behold, is not all this smoke and wind? Was there nothing else, too, on which I could exercise my wit and tongue? Thy praise, Lord, Thy praises might have supported the tendrils of my heart by Thy Scriptures; so had it not been dragged away by these empty trifles, a shameful prey of ² the fowls of the air. For there is more than one way in which men sacrifice to the fallen angels.