Room 512: late Friday night

[bookyeve]

I sing of warfare and a man at war.
From the sea-coast of Troy in early days
He came to Italy by destiny,
To our Lavinian western shore,
A fugitive, this captain, buffeted..."Really, I don't think the draperies are helping," Evie told Anne suddenly, perched on the edge of her window-seat, one hand up in dramatic declamation style. "I don't feel

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[ladycfitzgerald]

Anne, begarbed in a fearful and wonderful manner as Dido in draperies of her own, gave Evie an indulgent look. "Oh, Evie, where is your imagination? You can't simply try and translate the Aeneid -- you have to put your soul into it! And how can you do that if you can't at least try to feel a little bit like an epic poet?"

[bookyeve]

"But does an epic poet have better balance than I do?" Evie asked, teetering a bit. "Although-- I really did enjoy hearing about Gabrielle, in Dr. Covington's class. She wrote her own poetry too." She pulled the veil over her face again, cleared her throat, and declaimed, "Roman, remember by your strength to rule, To spare the conquered, battle down the proud...." She finally teetered off her perch, and then huffed. "Right. Your turn. Poor Dido, with Aeneas wanting to leave..."

[ladycfitzgerald]

"It's so tragic, isn't it?" Anne giggled and, by way of making up for such an unqueenlike act, adjusted her drapery gowns around her and assumed a more dignified and funereal air.

"Not so the queen: a deep wound drains
The healthful current of her veins:
Long since the unsuspected flame
Has fastened on her fevered frame:
Much dwells she on the chief divine,
Much on the glories of his line:
Each look is pictured in her breast,
Each word: nor passion lets her rest.

Soon as Aurora, tricked anew,
Had drawn from heaven the veil of dew,
Behold her thus her care impart
To the fond sister of her heart:

‘What portents, Anna, sister dear,
Possess my troubled dreams!
What strange unwonted guest is here!
How hero-like he seems!
How bold his port! how fair his face!
’Tis no vain tale, his heavenly race.
Fear proves a base-born soul: but he-
What perils his from war and sea!"

[bookyeve]

"Oooo. Shivers! Where is my pen?" Evie looked around, and managed to find a quill that she'd discarded, saying, "You may have a point, that acting it out makes the translation seem more real and immediate. At least when *you* do it." She scribbled a few more lines of translation, scowling at the paper. "You could be an actress, you know, you do that so well."