#dejection

Ms. noted breviary single leaf; written and illuminated in northern Italy, probably the Veneto, ca. 1420-1430.

One 6-line historiated initial D in burnished gold frame, with attached marginal vinescroll design with a human figure. The initial begins Psalm 59 for Matins and depicts a Benedictine monk, cowled and sitting in a rocky landscape with distant forest, all beneath a star-studded sky. This nocturnal scene calls to mind the nighttime office at which this Psalm was recited. Also, the monks' attitude of dejection and the barren landscape recall the Psalm's opening words: "God, you have pushed us away and wreaked havoc on us ... You have shaken the earth and thrown it into disorder." 3-line calligraphic initial in colors; 1-line versal initials alternate in red and blue with penwork flourishes; 4-line stave in red with black neumes; rubricated. Foliated CII at upper center of recto, and 102 in red paint at lower right margin.

Previously attributed to the Austrian Tyrol, see Harrsen, 1958, no. 53; now assigned to Northern Italy, probably the Veneto, see Getty Museum Journal, v. 15 (1987) p. 174, as reflecting the impact of Austrian illumination on an Italian artist.

Musical notation: Three 4-line staves in red ink with black neumes on recto.

Other leaves from the same noted Breviary are found in the following collections: Pierport Morgan Library: 1 leaf, M.885; J.Paul Getty Museum: 5 leaves, MS 24.86.ML.674; Free library of Philadelphia, John Frederick Lewis Collection: 3 leaves, M64.8-10.

Percy Bysshe Shelley

The sun is warm, the sky is clear,

         The waves are dancing fast and bright,

      Blue isles and snowy mountains wear

      The purple noon's transparent might,

         The breath of the moist earth is light,

      Around its unexpanded buds;

         Like many a voice of one delight,

      The winds, the birds, the ocean floods,

The City's voice itself, is soft like Solitude's.

         I see the Deep's untrampled floor

         With green and purple seaweeds strown;

      I see the waves upon the shore,

      Like light dissolved in star-showers, thrown:

         I sit upon the sands alone,—

      The lightning of the noontide ocean

         Is flashing round me, and a tone

      Arises from its measured motion,

How sweet! did any heart now share in my emotion.

         Alas! I have nor hope nor health,

         Nor peace within nor calm around,

      Nor that content surpassing wealth

      The sage in meditation found,

         And walked with inward glory crowned—

      Nor fame, nor power, nor love, nor leisure.

         Others I see whom these surround—

      Smiling they live, and call life pleasure;

To me that cup has been dealt in another measure.

         Yet now despair itself is mild,

         Even as the winds and waters are;

      I could lie down like a tired child,

      And weep away the life of care

         Which I have borne and yet must bear,

      Till death like sleep might steal on me,

         And I might feel in the warm air

      My cheek grow cold, and hear the sea

Breathe o'er my dying brain its last monotony.

         Some might lament that I were cold,

         As I, when this sweet day is gone,

      Which my lost heart, too soon grown old,

      Insults with this untimely moan;

         They might lament—for I am one

      Whom men love not,—and yet regret,

         Unlike this day, which, when the sun

      Shall on its stainless glory set,

I’ve been seeing this photograph posted a million times — it makes me feel melancholic. It’s a starling on a roof, under the falling rain.  it’s from Carina Sirbu’s portfolio. And it’s a great shot.

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