Mr Al-Khapoun's Christmas Quiz, 1991

Mr Al-Khapoun is once again trying to infuriate the bookish. They are invited to identify the source of the following quotations, which should be damn difficult. However, all the authors are well-known and most are famous. One item is in German, one in French and one in Italian. Translations have been provided for the German (question 8) and French (question 12); the quotation in question 5 is itself a translation of the Italian (question 4), or perhaps the other way round (so don't look at the answer to one unless you are ready to find out the answer to the other as well). One other quotation may be a translation: it is possible that it was translated by the writer from a first version in his or her native language into the language in which it is quoted below. Ingenious wrong answers will get at least as much credit as right ones. Last year there were many complaints about this quiz, and no doubt this year there will be even more. Stand back!

The enemy troops in Irak were nearly all Arabs in the unenviable position of having to fight on behalf of their secular oppressors against a people long envisaged as liberators, but who obstinately refused to play the part. As may be imagined they fought extremely badly.
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All the little household gods
Have started crying, but say
Good-bye now, and put to sea.
Farewell, dear friend, farewell: may
Hermes, master of the roads
And the four dwarf Kabiri,
Protect and serve you always,
And may the Ancient of Days
Provide for all you must do
His invisible guidance,
Lifting up, friend, upon you
The light of His countenance.
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``And now with respect to carnal misdemeanours. Did you take much cognizance of them?''
``Amongst the laity, not much. We, however, kept a vigilant eye upon our own body; but, upon the whole, were rather tolerant in these matters, knowing that the infirmities of human nature are very great indeed. We rarely punished, save in cases where the glory of the Church and loyalty to Maria Santissima made punishment absolutely imperative.''
``And which cases might those be?'' I demanded.
``I allude to the desecration of dovecotes, Don Jorge, and the introduction therein of strange flesh, for purposes neither seemly nor convenient.''
``Your reverence will excuse me for not yet perfectly understanding.''
``I mean, Don Jorge, certain acts of flagitiousness practised by the clergy in lone and remote palomares (dovecots), in olive grounds and gardens - actions denounced, I believe, by the holy Pablo in his first letter to Pope Sixtus. [Qu. The Epistle to the Romans.] You understand me now, Don Jorge, for you are learned in Church matters.''
``I think I understand you,'' I replied.
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Una strania fenice, ambedue l'ale
di porpora vestita e 'l capo d'oro,
vedendo per la selva, altera e sola,
veder forma celeste ed immortale
prima pensai, fin ch'al lo svelto alloro
giunse ed al fonte che la terra invola.
Ogni cosa al fin vola:
ché, mirando le frondi a terra sparse
e 'l troncon rotto e quel vivo umor secco,
volse in se stessa il becco
quasi sdegnando, e 'n un punto disparse:
onde 'l cor di pietate e d'amor m'arse.
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I saw a Phoenix in the wood alone,
With purple wings, and crest of golden hewe;
Strange bird he was, whereby I thought anone
That of some heauenly wight I had the vewe;
Vntill he came vnto the broken tree,
And to the spring, that late deuoured was.
What say I more? each thing at last we see
Doth pass away: the Phoenix there alas
Spying the tree destroid, the water dride
Himself smote with his beake, as in disdaine
And so forthwith in great despight he dide:
That yet my heart burns in exceeding paine,
For ruth and pitie of so haples plight.
O let mine eyes no more see such a sight.
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I hate with a bitter hatred the names of lentils and haricots - those pretentious cheats of the appetite, those certificated aridities calling themselves human food! An ounce of either, we are told, is equivalent to - how many pounds? - of the best rump-steak. There are not many ounces of common sense in the brain of him who proves it, or him who believes it. In some countries, this stuff is eaten by choice; in England only dire need can compel to its consumption. Lentils and haricots are not merely insipid; frequent use of them causes something like nausea. Preach and tabulate as you will, the English palate - which is the supreme judge - rejects this farinaceous makeshift. Even as it rejects vegetables without the natural concomitant of meat; as it rejects oatmeal-porridge and griddle-cakes for a mid-day meal; as it rejects lemonade and ginger-ale offered as substitutes for honest beer.
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In all that concerns eating and drinking, company, climate and ways of life, community of taste is to be sought for. It would be trying, for instance, to keep bed and board with an early riser or a vegetarian. In matters of art and intellect, I believe it is of no consequence. Certainly it is of none in the companionships of men, who will dine more readily with one who has a good heart, a good cellar, and a humorous tongue, than with another who shares all their favourite hobbies and is melancholy withal.
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Ein neues Lied, ein besseres Lied!
Es klingt wie Flöten und Geigen!
Das Miserere ist vorbei,
Die Sterbeglocken schweigen.
Die Jungfer Europa ist verlobt
Mit dem schönen Geniusse
Der Freiheit, sie liegen einander im Arm
Sie schwelgen im ersten Kusse.
Und fehlt der Pfaffensegen dabei,
Die Ehe wird gültig nicht minder -
Es lebe Bräutigam und Braut,
Und ihre zukünftigen Kinder!
[A new song, a better song! The sound of flutes and violins! The miserere is over, the passing bell sounds no more. The maiden, Europe, is betrothed to that fair genius, Liberty; they lie in each others arms, they wallow in their first kisses. And even though the parson has not blessed it, the marriage is lawful none the less - long live the bridegroom and bride, and their future children!]
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There is a lovely road that runs from Ixopo into the hills. These hills are grass-covered and rolling, and they are lovely beyond any singing of it. The road climbs seven miles into them, to Carisbrooke; and from there, if there is no mist, you look down on one of the fairest valleys of Africa.
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The mountain of Ngong stretches in a long ridge from north to south, and is crowned with a four noble peaks like immovable darker blue waves against the sky. It rises eight thousand feet above the sea, and to the east two thousand feet above the surrounding country; but to the west the drop is deeper and more precipitous - the hills fall vertically down towards the Great Rift Valley.
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Wilt thou then serve the Philistines with that gift
Which was expressly giv'n thee to annoy them?
Better lie at home bed-rid, not only idle,
Inglorious, unemployed, with age outworn.
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Ce n'est rien. Un petit talent de société. Je suis charmeur de mouches, à mes heures. Bonjour. Je vous reverrai.
[Nothing to it. Just a party trick. I'm a fly-charmer in my spare time. Cheerio. See you.]
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