The Book of Playing Cards

Future ages will sing of how you defend the laws, and how you place what is right far above what is merely useful; how you promote the beautiful love of virtue and art, and come to the aid of the Muse’s exhausted affairs original: Musæ fessis succurrere rebus; a reference to the poet's belief that the arts were suffering during the political or religious upheavals of the time. Future generations will see you lifted from the earth, bearing the immortal spoils of eternal praise, and joined with the gods above, where they will watch you rise—through your Piety—above mortal men and even above the gods themselves.

But what shall I do in the meantime? What gifts worthy of your merits can I bring? I am but a poet original: vates; a word for a poet that implies a prophetic or divinely inspired role whom a bitter fate has long made a target for unfair arrows. You have so often lifted me up with your help and your right hand; I do not know what to offer, and my mind wavers with conflicting cares.

I possess no gifts radiant with yellow gold; I have no treasures of Phrygian Midas, no talents of Pelops, nor the wealth of Cinyras These are all figures from classical mythology famous for their incredible wealth. I do not own the great furnishings of Codrus, nor the legendary orchards of Alcinous. Instead, I have certain "rich" gifts of my own: pages decorated with a humble poem. These are not filled with the illicit games by which our current age is accustomed to wasting whole days and nights—deceived as it is by a shameful and unspeakable lust for profit—but are instead suited for the deep delights of a noble heart.

I dedicate these pages to you, however unrefined they may be, as a pleasant gift. May you use them to refresh your hearts in the grateful shadow of Phoebus The god of poetry and the sun; here used as a metaphor for the intellectual relief found in literature, finding rest from the burning heat of cares and the long, winding paths of your labors. You will receive these gifts from your Schröter with a peaceful countenance; soon, more abundant works shall follow, whenever Fortune sets aside her rages against me.