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MikoÅ‚aj Hussowski (c. 1480–1533)
A POEM ON BISON
(selections)
Miko³aj Hussowski, born in a poor family in Hussów, was the author of panegyrical works and of
A Poem on Bison
(1523). This poem is a detailed descriptions of the bison, its life and habits. Written in Latin for Pope Leo X, an avid hunter, it stems from Hussowski's experience in hunting and observing bison, and contains no literary comparisons with ancient legendary creatures.
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It was not long ago,1 when in a big crowd
I saw a spectacle2 that took place in Rome.
When the bulls engaged in the fierce battle
Shaking off waves of bolts from their bodies,
Their wrath increased by those puncturing goads,
Swiftly turning on men in widespread slaughter,
When I marveled how much madness was aroused
By applause and wounds in the frenzied sway:
One of my friends recalled the woods of the north:
I began to tell in response to requests
About various wild beast hunts and the great strength
Of the bison - but my tongue caused me trouble,
For then I was charged to repeat promptly
My words in a song - and this is my chore.
In truth, we are reluctant to write about
The bison - He's a hated and terrible beast,
Which, although we are proud, if we kill him,
Inhabits the regions of the north pole3
And caused me at times such great trepidation
That I ran away, mocked by the wicked crowd.
But why heed the crowd! It is much more frightful
To test one's weapons before the learned men;
For either I'll stagger under this burden
Or will only receive a polite applause.
Yet unwilling to ignore words of the man
To whom I owe so much,4 I'll delay no more.
I won't say my imagination runs dry,
But I give you what barren ground can produce.
Coming recently to unknown Italy,
We began, as ordered, to compose this piece.
I plead, a visitor from the remote lands,5
With legitimate reasons, that no one hope
That this narrative be more lofty in style
Than is required to understand it.
Do you know, reader, what quill serves me today?6
I keep it in the quiver, right by my side.
I take paper from the quiver to write,
>From it fly my swishing bolts to kill forthwith.
You write, while I draw a bowstring with more skill,
We may be equal, though our skills are different.
Don't mock foreign lines of the unlearned man,
I carry, amazing thing, quite sharp arrows,
Filled with a poison of such unusual strength:
He who is hit by them falls from the slightest wound.
Accustomed to wade through the northern forests,
Now I also want to hide in the pine woods.
For good or bad - one can get lost in the woods -
Let the most horrid beast roar in my poem
And with a resounding echo convey
The distinctive tunes that formed our song.
This wildest beast is born in Lithuanian woods
And is well known for such enormous body,
That when he bends his defeated head, dying,
Three big men can place themselves between his horns.
But his gigantic neck may appear too small,
If you wished to compare it with other limbs.
The large beard sticks out, hangs from terrible mane,
The fiery eyes glare with horrible anger,
Monstrous hair of the mane falls on his shoulders,
Covering fully his knees, front, and whole chest.
But if I may combine great matters with small,
And also be allowed to use hunting words,
His figure seems to look like a goat with horns,
Although his limbs reveal he is a born bull.
His hue is darksome; from the yellow and black
It's blended, forming an intermediate shade.
I am surprised the ancients wrote otherwise,
But it is hard for me to know the reasons,7
Nor do I understand why they show huge horns
Sticking from his nostrils, changing him outright,
And are glad to bestow great bulk to his lips:
My bison won't be at all like their bison.
I read a lot of ancient lore in the books
Of Ruthenians,8 this tribe that writes down its speech
In Greek letters, adopted long ago,
As they mingled well with their native sounds.
There are many lands, and among various tribes
Different events took place since the dawn of time,
But no one ever saw such a beast; perhaps
He once lived before the flood in ice-cold zones.
Pliny9 talks distinctly about it and says
The bison and aurochs lived in the north woods.
The ancients10 knew no wilder beast than aurochs
Nourished then by the Polish land in its woods.
It is said no land existed in this world
That would keep such a beast in its backwoods.
His closest wild kin is the long-maned bison -
Writes he:11 one should read, if one wants to learn more.
No doubt many will allege that I feign it,
That it is hard to find a beast with such head,
Say those who know hot climes, but not our cold woods.
But let them say as much as they ever wish,
As long as I'll be free to say what jointly
With other men I was able to see,
And how still then, giving up my leisure,
I passed away those times that can't be revoked.
How I long for them now, how I toil away,
Tossing out the net in many different ways!
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