Eutychius, Annals, now combined into a single file

It took me five years to turn Pirone’s Italian translation of Eutychius’ Annals into English, using Google Translate.  That process created 102 blog posts.

People complained that they couldn’t find the bits that they wanted.  A kind correspondent wrote and emailed me a zip file of those posts, in 102 word documents.

So I’ve done it.  I’ve combined them, straightened the formatting somewhat, and added them to the Eutychius home page.  It’s here.  There’s a .docx and a .pdf.

Eutychius – or Said ibn Bitriq – was the 10th century Melkite – Greek Orthodox – “Patriarch of Alexandria”.  The real patriarch was, of course, a Copt.  So he had a little congregation of Greeks, and had time for literature.  His “Annals” are based on Byzantine Chronicles.  But because he wrote in Arabic, he had access to Arabic translations of lost Sassanid Persian chronicles.  He incorporates extracts into his work, which by itself would give it value.

As with all these Arabic Chronicles, it is divided into two halves.  The first runs from the Creation of the World to the reign of Heraclius.  The second part covers the Muslim period.

I hope it’s useful.  It’s a totally unfinished piece of work, but I don’t know that I will ever do more.  So… may it be useful as it is.


An English translation of Asterius of Cappadocia, Homily 16 (On the Easter Vigil)

A twitter post alerts me to the release of the first English translation of Homily 16 by Asterius of Cappadocia (CPG 2815, no.16).  It is one of a collection of 31 homilies which is listed in the CPG, under the title Commentarii in Psalmos, which seems odd.  A translation of an extract from homily 11 is here.

The translation is by Nathan Porter, who has kindly made it available on here.  He suggests that it was delivered in the 330s.   His tweet included this lovely image:

Note that this is NOT the later author Asterius of Amasea, whose works begin in the CPG with 3260.


Easter: A translation error in Bede, De Ratione Temporum

The word “Easter” is used only in English for the Christian commemoration of the death and resurrection of Christ.  In most languages the word is passover (pasch), or some version of it.  This is indeed what Easter is, the Christian version of passover.  That’s why it moves: Jesus was Jewish, and lived in Judaea, and the events of his life are based around the Jewish lunar calendar, which gives passover as the full moon after the equinox.  Jesus died on passover and rose on the Sunday after, so Easter is in principle the Sunday after passover.  The Julian calendar was not in use in Judaea, unfortunately.  None of this is known to the general public, and in the anglophone world it is widely assumed that every language calls it Easter.

Where does the English word “Easter” come from?  Our information on this comes from a single source, Bede De ratione temporum, (CPL 2320) on the reckoning of time, dated 723 AD.  Chapter 15 of this contains a list of the Anglosaxon months, which is full of interest and reads as follows:

Antiqui autem Anglorum populi (neque enim mibi congruum videtur, aliarum gentium annalem obser­vantiam dicere, ct mese reticere) juxta cursum lunae suos menses computavere; unde et a luna Hebraeorum et Graecorum more nomen accipiunt. Si quidem apud eos luna mona, mensis monath appellatur. Primusque eorum mensis, quem Latini Januarium vocant, dici­tur Giuli. Deinde Februarius Solmonath, Martius Hredmonath, Aprilis Eosturmonath, Maius Thrimylchi, Junius Lida, Julius similiter Lida, Augustus Weodmonath, September Halegmonath, October Winterfylleth, November Blodmonath, December Giuli, eodem quo Januarius nomine, vocatur. Incip­iebant autem annum ab octavo Calendarum Janua­riarum die, ubi nunc natale Domini celebramus. Et ipsam noctem nunc nobis sacrosanctam, tunc gentili vocabulo Modranicht, id est, matrum noctem, ap­pellabant, ob causam; ut suspicamur, ceremoniarum quas in ea pervigiles agebant. Et quotiescunque communis esset annus, ternos menses lunares singulis anni temporibus dabant. Cum vero embolismus, hoc est, XIII mensium lunarium annus occurreret, superfluum mensem aestati apponebant, ita ut tunc tres menses simul Lida nomine vocarentur, et ob id annus ille Thrilidi cognominabatur, habens IV menses gestatis, ternos ut semper temporum caete­rorum. Item principaliter annum totum in duo tempora, hyemis, videlicet, et aestatis dispartiebant, sex illos menses quibus longiores noctibus dies sunt aestati tribuendo, sex reliquos hyemi. Unde et men­sem quo hyemalia tempora incipiebant Winterfylleth appellabant, composito nomine ab hyeme et plenilunio, quia videlicet a plenilunio ejusdem mensis hyems sortiretur initium. Nec ab re est si et caetera mensium eorum quid significent nomina interpretari curemus. Menses Giuli a conversione solis in auctum dici, quia unus eorum praecedit, alius subsequitur, nomina accipiunt. Solmonath dici potest mensis placentarum, quas in eo diis suis offerebant; Hredmonath a dea illorum Hreda, cui in illo sacrificabant, nominatur; Eosturmonath, qui nunc paschalis mensis interpretatur, quondam a dea illorum quae Eostre vocabatur, et cui in illo festa celebrabant, nomen habuit, a cujus nomine nunc paschale tempus cognominant, consueto antiquae observationis voca­bulo gaudia novae solemnitalis vocantes. Trimilchi dicebatur, quod tribus vicibus in eo per diem pecora mulgebantur. Talis enim erat quondam ubertas Bri­tanniae, vel Germaniae, de qua in Britanniam natio intravit Anglorum. Lida dicitur blandus, sive naviga­bilis, quod in utroque mense et blanda sit serenitas aurarum, et navigari soleant aequora. Weodmonath mensis zizaniorum , quod ea tempestate maxime abundent. Halegmonath mensis Sacrorum. Winterfylleth potest dici composito novo nomine hyeme-plenilunium. Blotmonath mensis immolationum, quia in ea pecora quae occisuri erant diis suis vove­rent. Gratias tibi, bone Jesu, qui hos, ab his vanis avertens, tibi sacrificia laudis offerre donasti.

We are fortunate to have an excellent English translation of this long volume (1988, p.53-4) by Faith Wallis in the Liverpool University Press series “Translated Texts for Historians.”  Here is the corresponding passage.

In olden time the English people – for it did not seem ¢tting to me that I should speak of other nations’ observance of the year and yet be silent about my own nation’s – calculated their months according to the course of the Moon. Hence, after the manner of the Greeks and the Romans, [the months] take their name from the Moon, for the Moon is called “mona” and the month “monath”.

The first month, which the Latins call January, is “Giuli”; February is called “Solmonath”; March “Hrethmonath”; April, “Eosturmonath”; May, “Thrimilchi”; June, “Litha”; July, also “Litha”; August, “Weodmonath”; September, “Halegmonath”; October, “Winterfilleth”; November, “Blodmonath”; December, “Giuli”, the same name by which January is called. They began the year on the 8th kalends of January [25 December], when we celebrate the birth of the Lord. That very night, which we hold so sacred, they used to call by the heathen word “Modranecht”, that is, ‘‘mother’s night’’, because (we suspect) of the ceremonies they enacted all that night.

Whenever it was a common year, they gave three lunar months to each season. When an embolismic year occurred (that is, one of 13 lunar months) they assigned the extra month to summer, so that three months together bore the name ‘‘Litha’’; hence they called [the embolismic] year ‘‘Thrilithi’’. It had four summer months, with the usual three for the other seasons. But originally, they divided the year as a whole into two seasons, summer and winter, assigning the six months in which the days are longer than the nights to summer, and the other six to winter. Hence they called the month in which the winter season began ‘‘Winterfilleth’’, a name made up from ‘‘winter’’ and ‘‘full Moon’’, because winter began on the full Moon of that month.

Nor is it irrelevant if we take the trouble to translate the names of the other months. The months of Giuli derive their name from the day when the Sun turns back [and begins] to increase, because one of [these months] precedes [this day] and the other follows. Solmonath can be called ‘‘month of cakes’’, which they offered to their gods in that month. Hrethmonath is named for their goddess Hretha, to whom they sacrificed at this time. Eosturmonath has a name which is now translated ‘‘Paschal month’’, and which was once called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month. Now they designate that Paschal season by her name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance. Thrimilchi was so called because in that month the cattle were milked three times a day; such, at one time, was the fertility of Britain or Germany, from whence the English nation came to Britain. Litha means ‘‘gentle’’ or ‘‘navigable’’, because in both these months the calm breezes are gentle, and they were wont to sail upon the smooth sea. Weodmonath means ‘‘month of tares’’, for they are very plentiful then. Halegmonath means ‘‘month of sacred rites’’. Winterfilleth can be called by the invented composite name ‘‘winter-full’’. Blodmonath is ‘‘month of immolations’’, for then the cattle which were to be slaughtered were consecrated to their gods. Good Jesu, thanks be to thee, who hast turned us away from these vanities and given us [grace] to offer to thee the sacrifice of praise.

Interesting stuff, but clearly belonging to a time past even in Bede’s day.

All the same there appears to be an error in the Eosturmonath translation, where the translator has split the sentence in two and in the process introduced a confusion.

Eosturmonath, qui nunc paschalis mensis interpretatur, quondam a dea illorum quae Eostre vocabatur, et cui in illo festa celebrabant, nomen habuit, a cujus nomine nunc paschale tempus cognominant, consueto antiquae observationis voca­bulo gaudia novae solemnitalis vocantes.

Eosturmonath has a name which is now translated ‘‘Paschal month’’, and which was once called after a goddess of theirs named Eostre, in whose honour feasts were celebrated in that month. Now they designate that Paschal season by her name, calling the joys of the new rite by the time-honoured name of the old observance.

Parsing this word by word:

et cui in illo festa celebrabant – and for whom, in that (month), feasts they used to celebrate.

nomen habuit, a cujus nomine nunc paschale tempus cognominant – (Eosturmonath) has a name, by which name now the paschal season they designate

consueto antiquae observationis voca­bulo, gaudia novae solemnitalis vocantes –  of the accustomed ancient observance by the name, the joys of the new rite calling

The translator has treated “cuius”, “of whom/which” as referring back to “dea … Eostre”.  Well it could.  “cuius” could refer to either a feminine or a neuter noun.  But the curious position of the “nomen  habuit” – “it has a name”  – seems designed solely to avoid this.  The whole bit about Eostre is put between “Eosturmonath” and “nomen habuit”, precisely to keep it out of the way of the rest of the sentence.  So I suggest that “cuius” should be understood to refer to “nomen”, i.e. to the season, not the goddess.

This would mean that the TTH should read “now they designate the paschal season by its name”.

This means that – unsurprisingly – the word “Easter” comes from “Eosturmonath”, not directly from “Eostre”.  According to Bede, the name Eostre gave rise to the season Eosturmonth (April) which in turn was used by the Christian English to mean the Christian festival of pasch.

So “Easter” is merely a worn down form of “Eosturmonath”.


From my diary

I have started work on a revised translation of the Annals of the Arabic Christian writer Eutychius.  My approach is  to get the Italian text, get my existing translation, and get a translation from ChatGPT 3.5, and interleave them, sentence by sentence.  I’ve had to make some modifications to the somewhat crude tool that I use to interleave.

I had rather hoped to do a whole chapter at a time, but ChatGPT 3.5 does not support more than a certain amount of text.  This is annoying in a way, because fiddling with interleaving takes time away from translating.

I must say that I am glad to discover relatively few mistakes in my first translation.  There are some, but it could be far worse.  ChatGPT tends to produce smoother English, so often I have gone with their rendering.

On the other hand ChatGPT has a definite tendency to paraphrase.  It’s not bad; but I keep an eye on it.

I’ve done around 14 sections of chapter 1 – there are 18 chapters, or something like that – without too much trouble.  But now ChatGPT is fighting me.

I started work on sections 15-17.  When I interleaved, I found that the text produced by ChatGPT was around half the size of that from the Italian or my original translation.  Mysteriously it had simply truncated text, right in the middle of the passage.  It really fought me.  I had to paste in each section by itself.  This has not happened before, and reflects the deep instability of AI.

Once I had done this, I started work.  But I am troubled to find that the AI output “feels” different.  It’s quite close to my own translation. Is it possible that it is basically just giving me my original translation back?  How can I tell?

The text and my original translation have footnote numbers, embedded in brackets like this (32).  Previously ChatGPT included these.  Now it strips them out.

None of this feels good.  I was very happy with what it was producing originally.  Now it feels like it is fighting me.

AI is not a fit technology.  Any technology that gives different results when you use it at different times is not a fit technology.

These things are only tools.  You need to know that your tool works, and will serve you when you have time to work.  Imagine if your saw would only cut wood at certain times of the day?  If the width and fineness of the saw cut varied depending on unknown factors?  If your saw silently changed it’s depth of cut?

You would quickly get rid of it, if only out of sheer frustration.

I shall have to see how I go with this.  It’s a very wonky technology.  The secretiveness about how it works does not help.  Nor does the fact that people want to force you to buy stuff to use it.  I hate the commercial web that we have today.  All the same, it does make things possible that would not have been possible before.


From My Diary

When you finish a project, there are always two competing feelings.  The first is to rush into something else, another project of the same kind.  But looking around my desktop, I do seem to have caught up.

The only folder left is to the translation of Eutychius “Annals.”  This 10th century Arabic Christian chronicle is one that I turned into English, from the Italian translation by Bartolomeo Pirone, chunk by chunk, on this blog.  I remember that Google Translate was giving erratic results for numerals.  I always intended to go through it and make sure it was correct, and gather it all up.  I ought to do this.  I do get a modest number of enquiries about it.  I could use ChatGPT as well.

Or I could look at Bar Hebraeus, “Book of the Dynasties”, for which there is an 18th century German translation and nothing else.  That would be useful too.

The other feeling you get is lassitude and disinterest.  You’re tired.  You need a break.  Often it is wisest to let the adrenaline dissolve, and just relax a bit.

This morning I had a couple of emails that distracted me nicely from Eutychius.

The first related to a 2019 post on how to download LIDAR datasets for the English coast from a frankly dreadful official site.  This attracts a reasonable amount of attention, precisely because everyone is baffled.  The email advised me that the detailed instructions no longer worked, because the website had changed.  And so it had.

So I’ve spent an hour, going through the website and updating my tutorial.  It is still possible to download the datasets, thankfully.

The other was a request for some material about the Mithraeum of Santa Prisca, from a 2010 post.  Once I found out what was wanted, it was a simple matter to find it on my disk, in the “Mithras\Santa Prisca” folder, and email it over.

Which leaves me back, to consider what to do next.  We’ll see!


The “Life” of St Mewan / S. Mevennus / Saint-Méen (BHL 5944) – now online in English

I’ve now completed a draft translation of the medieval “Saint’s Life” of St Mewan, a Welsh saint whose legend is mainly set in Brittany.  St Mewan seems to belong to the early 7th century, but the Life dates to the 10-11th century.  Only one manuscript contains the full text, which is preserved in a manuscript written after 1544 (!), so very late indeed.

Here are the files:

The files are also at here.  As usual, this material is public domain.  Do whatever you like with it, personal, educational or commercial.


From My Diary

I’m working on an English translation of St Mewan.  I’m about halfway through at the moment.  I’m using Google Translate and ChatGPT 3.5 to do the heavy liftiing, and working on the output.

ChatGPT is really quite unstable.  When it works, it’s great, but sometimes it silently returns the Google Translate output the for the Latin instead.  Because I interleave the sentences and translations I tend to catch it at once, but it is infuriating.  Yesterday I told it “translate from Latin without using Google Translate”, and this did force it back to something else.  But it wasn’t as good, and I do wonder what it was using.  I’m not that keen on technology that hides what it is doing.

Much of the rest of my time is currently being spent with a bunch of machines and boxes of disks, inherited from my parents.  They’re occupying my study floor, so I have been trying to reduce these down to whatever is actually useful now, and putting the disk contents onto a hard disk.  The CDRs and CDRWs are mostly OK, some 15 years after they were made.  Most of the laptops are old, slow and now useless.  But I have somehow ended up as the owner of four (4) Fujitsu Scansnap 1300i document scanners.  Useful things, but I hardly need four of them.


Constantine V: the Virgin Mary was like “an empty purse, no different to any other post partum woman”

Here’s an interesting question:

A colleague informed me that at the iconoclast Synod of Hieria in 754 the Emperor Constantine V compared the pregnant Virgin Mary to a purse containing gold coins of great value. After giving birth to Christ he then compared her to an empty purse, no different to any other post partum woman. When I suggested that the tale was probably legendary my informant insisted that it occurs in the Acta Sanctorum. … in which volume I should seek it?

A bit of googling supplied the answer, via Stephen Gero, Byzantine Iconoclasm during the reign of Constantine V, (1977), p.146.  The event did not take place at Hieria, as far as I can tell.

The source is the Vita Nicetae Hegoumeni Medicii, by his disciple Theosterictus, BHG 1341.  Nicetas was abbot of the Medikion monastery in Bithynia, and died in 824 AD.  He is commemorated on April 3 or 29.  The “Life” was probably written not long after.

The text and a Latin translation can indeed be found in the Acta Sanctorum, April vol. 1.  But various pitfalls lie in wait for the researcher.  The first 800-odd pages consist of purely Latin texts.   This does include the Vita Nicetae – in a modern translation by Sirletus – starting on p.253.  Then follows an “Appendix”.  And then, using Roman page numbers, the remainder of the volume is Greek texts.  The Greek of the Vita Nicetae is on p. XVIII-XXVII.  This begins on page 988 of the PDF (online here).  Phew.

The relevant chapter is 29, and I thought that it might be useful to give an English translation of it, from the Latin of Sirletus.

29.  While these things were happening, the great primate (b) left his throne, the venerable swallow fled from its nest, which used to adorn the natural tranquillity of the Church with its sweet chirping, gracing the Lord’s festivals; and in his place an ugly raven was brought in, cawing and croaking discordantly, with the Church sinking down and mournfully lamenting, because it had been deprived of such a great and divine prelate.  But there was no small confusion in all the sacred houses, the madness of the impious running in every direction, and seizing everything like a pestilence, while, elated by power, they dared anything.

His son Constantine (c) followed, at the same time the heir of the empire and the heir of perversity, the worse seed of the evil root, the deadly dragon from the venomous serpent, the shape-changing leopard from the most savage lion, who surpassed his father’s malice many times over.  For he was not content only with insulting the sacred images but also dishonoured the holy Martyrs, as much as he could, forbidding them to be named as saints, and ordered that they be called, to the Apostles (d), to the Forty, to Theodore, to George, and others of this kind; moreover, he utterly despised their relics, [he also attempted to abolish the cult of the Mother of God,] considering them worthless: and to sum it up in one word, he was outwardly Christian, but in most aspects, he was a Jew at heart.

For as Christ chose for Himself the most glorious house, I mean His mother, higher than all created things, the advocate of the world, the mediator of human salvation, nearest to God because of the dignity of her virginity, he also sought in many ways to abolish her name that must be venerated in the Church; and he did not even want to call upon her intercessions, by which the world stands, saying that she could not help anyone.  He also attempted to secure his saying with a comparison: for on a certain day, taking a purse full of gold in his hands, and showing it to those present, he asked what it was worth.  But when they said, “A great amount,” pouring out the gold, he asked again, “How much now?” And when they replied that it was worth nothing, he said in his wretchedness:”So also the Mother of God (for he did not deign to call her Saint) was of great value when she had Christ within her; but after she gave birth to Him, she differed in nothing from other women.”

O blasphemous folly!  O the ineffable tolerance and long-suffering of God!  How did He not break that mouth, which spoke what is unlawful in pride and insult against the Mother of Christ? How did this new and puffed-up pharisee, hateful to God, differ from the blasphemous Jews?[1]

b.  The edict against images was published on 7 Jan. 730 AD.  Germanus I, the patriarch, abdicated, and was replaced on 22 Jan. by the pliable Anastasius, who managed to oppose, support, and then oppose images, as the politics demanded.

c.  Leo the Armenian died on 18 June 775, and his son Constantine V, nicknamed Copronymus, succeeded him.

d.  The Acta Sanctorum editor notes that Sirletus misunderstood the Greek text at this point.  Constantine’s order was that a church – not the saint – should not be called “the church of St George”. but just “the church of George,” etc.

In the end the iconoclasts lost, of course, but it is interesting to see them rowing against the trends in the Byzantine church.

  1. [1]Haec dum agerentur migravit e throno suo magnus (b) Pontifex, fugitque nido veneranda hirundo, quae vernam ecclesiae tranquillitatem dulcisono ornabat garritu, Dominica festa condecorans: & in locum ejus inductus est deformis corvus, hians & absonum crocitans, procumbente Ecclesia & moestum ingemiscente, quod tanto tamque divino Praesule esset orbata. Erat autem in omnibus sacris aedibus confusio non modica, discurrente quaquaversum versania impiorum, omniaque instar pestis corripiente, [propagator Constantinus Copron.] dum nihil non audet potestate subnixa. Secutus est imperii simul & perversitatis haeres filius (c) Constantinus, malae radicis pejus germen, ex venenato serpente laetifer draco, ex saevissimo leone versipellis pardus, qui multipliciter superavit patris malitiam. Nec enim sola contentus fuit imaginum sacrarum injuria, sed etiam sanctos Martyres, quantum in se fuit, inhonorans, vetuit Sanctos nominari, jussitque ut diceretur, ad Apostolos, (d) ad Quadraginta, ad Theodorum, ad Georgium & cetera hujusmodi: eorum autem Reliquias omnino contemnebat, [qui etiam Deiparae cultum conatus est abolere,] habebatque pro nihilo: atque ut verbo uno absolvam specie Christianus erat, animo in plerisque Judaeus. Quam enim sibi in domum propriam elegit Christus, gloriosissimam, inquam, illius matrem, rebus omnibus creatis sublimiorem, advocatam mundi, salutis humanae conciliatricem, Deoque propter virginitatis decorem proximam, hujus quoque venerandum nomen multimodis studuit in Ecclesia abolere; intercessiones vero illius, per quas subsistit mundus, nec nominari quidem voluit, dicens eam nemini posse opitulari. Conabatur etiam suum illud dictum confirmare similitudine: manibus namque die quadam accipiens crumenam auro plenam, ipsamque praesentibus ostentans, interrogabat, cujus illa pretii esset. Illis vero dicentibus, Magni; effundens aurum, iterum interrogabat, Quanti nunc? Et ipsis, nullius valoris esse, reponentibus; intulit miser: Sic & Deipara (nec enim dignabatur Sanctam dicere) quando intra se habuit Christum, pretiosa erat: postquam vero illum peperit, nihil discrepabat a ceteris. O blasphemam stultitiam! o ineffabilem tolerantiam & longanimitatem Dei! Quomodo non contrivit os illud, quod contra matrem Christi loquebatur injustiam in superbia & in abusione. Quid a blasphemis Judaeis novus hic elatusque ac Deo odibilis Pharisaeus distabat?

St David – a bibliography of the medieval “Lives”

March 1 is St David’s Day.  St David was a Welsh saint who died around 601.  He appears in some of the 13th century versions of the Annals of Wales (Annales Cambriae).  An English translation of a combined text gives him in two entries:

St. David is born in the thirtieth year after Patrick left Menevia.  …

The synod of Urbs Legionis [Chester].
Gregory died in Christ and also bishop David of Moni Iudeorum.

From this we learn that he was bishop of “Menevia”, formerly Roman Menapia, now the city of St Davids in Wales; and that he died around 601 AD, depending on how you read the years in that Chronicle.

The Bibliotheca Hagiographica Latina (BHL) lists a number of “lives”.  I include the “incipit”, i.e. the first few words, and where to find the text.

  • BHL 2107 – “Life” by Ricemarch, bishop of Menevia.  A text and translation appear in Rees, Lives of the Cambro-British Saints (1853); Latin text: p.117-43, English translation: 418-448.  A Welsh text and English translation are also given.  (Curiously Wikipedia gives the author the name of “Rhygyfarch”, while acknowledging that contemporaries called him Ricemarch.  Possibly modern Welsh nationalism may be involved.)  Online here.
  • BHL 2108 – Epitome a of Ricemarch.  Inc.: “Sanctus quem tinctio.”  Text: Acta Sanctorum, March vol. 1, p.41-45.  Online here.
  • BHL 2109 – Epitome b of Ricemarch. Inc.: “S. enim David, quem vulgus Dewi appellat.”  Text: Nova Legenda Anglie (1901 repr.), vol. 1, p.254-262. Online here.
  • BHL 2110 – Epitome c of Ricemarch.  Inc.: “Dominus N. I. C. quamvis sanctos suis … sic hunc. s. ven. David.” Text: John Colgan, Acta sanctorum vetris et majoris Sectiae seu Hiberniae sanctorum insulae (1645), 425-29.  Online here.
  • Not numbered – Epitome d of Ricemarch.  Inc. not given.  Text: Breviarii Aberdonensis … pars hyemalis, Edinburgh (1509), repr. London (1854).  But I was completely unable to find my way around this.  There are 3 volumes, and the info given is “pars hiem., Propr. SS. 61-62.”  The volumes are online here: vol. 1; vol. 2; vol. 3; but I have no idea which volume it is.
  • BHL 2111 – “Life” by Gerald of Wales.  Inc. (prologue): “Vitam s. David archiep., quem vulgares Dewi dicunt — Inc. B. itaque David ingenuis natalibus ortus”.  Text: Brewer, Giraldi Cambrensis opera, vol. 3, 377-404. Online here.
  • BHL 2112 – A genealogy.  Text: Rees, as above, p.144.

The main life exists in English.  The epitomes are probably of interest only to specialists.  I couldn’t see an English translation of Gerald’s Life.  The genealogy is just a list of names.  So… most of the material does exist in English.


Ephraem Graecus, “Threni” or “The Lamentations of the Virgin Mary before the cross” (CPG 4085)

Yesterday I discussed a short but spurious piece attributed to Ephraem Graecus, the “Threni” or “Lamentatins of the Virgin Mary before the cross” (CPG 4085).  It’s actually a set of Greek verses from the 14th or 15th century.  Assemani only printed – or rather pirated – a Latin translation of the early modern period.  But since it is a short text, I thought that it would be fun to translate it, and put the results online.  Here they are:

It’s also on here.  As usual these files and everything in them are public domain – do whatever you like with them, personal, educational or commercial.