by Petronius
Desire no possession unless the world envies me for possessing
Doctor’s not good for anything except for a consolation
Double capacity of masseurs and prostitutes
Egyptians “commercialized” that incomparable art
Either ‘take-in,’ or else they are ‘taken-in’
Empress Theodora belonged to this class
Errors committed in the name of religion
Esteeming nothing except what is rare
Everybody’s business is nobody’s business
Everything including the children, is devoted to ambition
Face, rouged and covered with cosmetics
Fierce morality, inimical to all the pleasures of life
For one hour of nausea you promise it a plethora of good things
Hardouin on homosexuality in priests
He can teach you more than he knows himself
High fortune may rather master us, than we master it
In the arrogance of success, had put on the manner of the master
Laughed ourselves out of a most disgraceful quarrel
Learning’s a fine thing, and a trade won’t starve
Legislation has never proved a success in repressing vice
Live coals are more readily held in men’s mouths than a secret
Love or art never yet made anyone rich
Man is hated when he declares himself an enemy to all vice
Men are lions at home and foxes abroad
No one will confess the errors he was taught in his school days
No one can show a dead man a good time
One could do a man no graver injury than to call him a dancer
Platitudes by which anguished minds are recalled to sanity
Priests, animated by an hypocritical mania for prophecy
Propensity of pouring one’s personal troubles into another’s ear
Putting as good a face upon the matter as I could
Religions responsible for the most abominable actions
Remarkable resemblance to each other are the Bible and Homer
Rumor but grows in the telling and strives to embellish
Russia there is a sect called the skoptzi
See or hear nothing at all of the affairs of every-day life
She is chaste whom no man has solicited — Ovid
Something in the way of hope at which to nibble
Stained by the lifeblood of the God of Wine
Stinking of St. Jerome
Tax on bachelors
The loser’s always the winner in arguments
The teachers, who must gibber with lunatics
They secure their ends, save by setting snares for the ears
They seize what they dread to lose most
To follow all paths; but a road can discover by none
Too many doctors did away with him
Wars were as much enterprises for ravishing women
We know that you’re only a fool with a lot of learning
Whatever we have, we despise
Whatever you talk of at home will fly forth in an instant
Whenever you learn a thing, it’s yours
While we live, let us live
You can spot a louse on someone else
POEMS
Translated by Michael Heseltine
[1] Every man shall find his own desire; there is no one thing which pleases all: one man gathers thorns and another roses.
[2] Now autumn had brought its chill shades, and Phoebus was looking winterwards with cooler reins. Now the plane-tree had begun to shed down her leaves, now the young shoots had withered on the vine, and she had begun to number her grapes: the whole promise of the year was standing before our eyes.
[3] It was fear first created gods in the world, when the lightning fell from high heaven, and the ramparts of the world were rent with flame, and Athos was smitten and blazed. Soon ’twas Phoebus sank to earth, after he had traversed earth from his rising; the Moon grew old and once more renewed her glory; next the starry signs were spread through the firmament, and the year divided into changing seasons. The folly spread, and soon vain superstition bade the labourer yield to Ceres the harvest’s chosen firstfruits, and garland Bacchus with the fruitful vine, and made Pales to rejoice in the shepherd’s work; Neptune swims deepplunged beneath all the waters of the world, Pallas watches over shops, and the man who wins his prayer or has betrayed the world for gold now strives greedily to create gods of his own.
[4] I would not always steep my head with the same sweet nard, nor strive to win my stomach with familiar wine. The bull loves to change his valley-pasture, and the wild beast maintains his zest by change of food. Even to be bathed in the light of day is pleasant only because the night-hour races back with altered steeds.
[5] A wife is a burden imposed by law, and should be loved like one’s fortune. But I do not wish to love even my fortune for ever.
[6] Leave thine home, O youth, and seek out alien shores: a larger range of life is ordained for thee. Yield not to misfortune; the far-off Danube shall know thee, the cold North-wind, and the untroubled kingdoms of Canopus, and the men who gaze on the new birth of Phoebus or upon his setting: he that disembarks on distant sands, becomes thereby the greater man.
[7] For there is naught that may not serve the need of mortal men, and in adversity despised things help us. So when a ship sinks, yellow gold weighs down its possessor, while a flimsy oar bears up the shipwrecked body. When the trumpets sound, the savage’s knife stands drawn at the rich man’s throat; the poor man’s rags wear the amulet of safety.
[8] My little house is covered by a roof that fears no harm, and the grape swollen with wine hangs from the fruitful elm. The boughs yield cherries, the orchards ruddy apples, and the trees sacred to Pallas break under the wealth of their branches. And now where the smooth soil drinks from the runnels of the spring, Corycian kale springs up for me and creeping mallows, and the poppy with promise of untroubled sleep. Moreover, if my pleasure is to lay snares for birds, or if I choose rather to entrap the timid deer, or draw out the quivering fish on slender line, so much deceit is all that is known to my humble fields. Go, then, and barter the hours of flying life for rich banquets. My prayer is that since at the last the same end waits for me, it may find me here, here call me to account for the time that I have spent.
[9] Is it not enough that mad youth engulfs us, and our good name is sunk in reproach and sweeps us astray? Behold! even bondmen and the rabble that is kindred to the mire wanton amid our gathered hoards! The low slave enjoys the treasure of a kingdom, and the thrall’s room shames Vesta and the cottage of Romulus. So goodness lies obscured in the deep mud, and the fleet of the unrighteous carries snowy sails.
[10] So, too, the body will shut in the belly’s wind, which, when it labours to come forth again from its deep dungeon, prizes forth a way by sharp blows: and there is no end to the cold shiver which rules the cramped frame, till a warm sweat bedews and loosens the body.
[11] O sea-shore and sea more sweet to me than life! Happy am I who may come at once to the lands I love. O beauteous day! In this country long ago I used to rouse the Naiads with my hands’ alternate stroke. Here is the fountain’s pool, there the sea washes up its weeds: here is a sure haven for quiet love. I have had life in full; for never can harder fortune take away what was given us in time overpast.
[12] With these words he tore the white hair from his trembling head, and rent his cheeks; his eyes filled with tears, and as the impetuous river sweeps down the valleys when the cold snow has perished, and the gentle south-wind will not suffer the ice to live on the unfettered earth, so was his face wet with a full stream, and his heart rang with the troubled murmur of deep groaning.
[13] For sooner will men hold fire in their mouths than keep a secret. Whatever you let escape you in your hall flows forth and beats at city walls in sudden rumours. Nor is the breach of faith the end. The work of betrayal issues forth with increase,
and strives to add weight to the report. So was it that the greedy slave, who feared to unlock his knowledge, dug in the ground and betrayed the secret of the king’s hidden ears. For the earth brought forth sounds, and the whispering reeds sang how Midas was even such an one as the tell-tale had revealed.
[14] There sea and sky struggle and buffet each other, here the tiny stream runs through smooth and smiling country. There the sailor laments for his sunken ship, here the shepherd dips his flock in the gentle river. There death confronts and chokes the vast gape of greed, here the earth laughs to lie low before the curved sickle. There, with water everywhere, dry thirst burns the throat, here kisses are given in plenty to faithless man. Let Ulysses go sail and weary the waters in beggar’s rags: the chaste Penelope dwells on land.
[15] The man that would not haste to die, nor force the Fates to snap the tender threads with impetuous hand, should know only this much of the sea’s anger. Lo! where the tide flows back, and the wave bathes his feet without peril! Lo! where the mussel is thrown up among the green sea-weed, and the hoarse whorl of the slippery shell is rolled along! Lo! where the wave turns the sands to rush back in the eddy, there pebbles of many a hue appear on the wave-worn floor. Let the man who may have these things under his feet, play safely on the shore, and count this alone to be the sea.
[16] Outward beauty is not enough, and the woman who would appear fair must not be content with any common manner. Words, wit, play, sweet talk and laughter, surpass the work of too simple nature. For all expense of art seasons beauty, and naked loveliness is wasted all in vain, if it have not the will to please.
[17] So, contrary to the known operations of nature, the raven lays her eggs when the crops are ripe. So the she-bear shapes her cubs with her tongue, and the fish is ignorant of love’s embrace, yet brings forth young. So the tortoise, sacred to Phoebus, delivered by the will of mother Lucina, hatches her eggs with the warmth of her nostrils. So the bee, begotten without wedlock from the woven cells, throbs with life and fills her camp with bold soldiery. The strength of nature lies not in holding on one even way, but she loves to change the fashion of her laws.
[18] My birthplace was India’s glowing shore, where the day returns in brilliance with fiery orb. Here I was born amid the worship of the gods, and exchanged my barbaric speech for the Latin tongue. O healer of Delphi, now dismiss thy swans; here is a voice more worthy to dwell within thy temple.
[19] The sailor, naked from the shipwreck, seeks out a comrade stricken by the same blow to whom he may bewail his fate. The farmer who has lost his crops and the whole year’s fruits in the hail, weeps his sad lot on a bosom wounded like his own. Death draws the unhappy together; bereaved parents utter their groans with one voice, and the moment makes them equal. We too will strike the stars with words in unison; the saying is that prayers travel more strongly when united.
[20] You send me golden apples, my sweet Martia, and you send me the fruit of the shaggy chestnut. Believe me, I would love them all; but should you choose rather to come in person, lovely girl, you would beautify your gift. Come, if you will, and lay sour apples to my tongue, the sharp flavour will be like honey as I bite. But if you feign you will not come, dearest, send kisses with the apples; then gladly will I devour them.
[21] If you are sister to Phoebus, Delia, I entrust my petition to you, that you may carry to your brother the words of my prayer. “God of Delphi, I have built for you a temple of Sicilian marble, and have given you fair words of song from a slender pipe of reed. Now if you hear us, Apollo, and are indeed divine, tell me where a man who has no money is to find it.”
[22] Honest Heaven ordained that all things which can end our wretched complaints should be ready to hand. Common green herbs and the berries that grow on rough brambles allay the gnawing hunger of the belly. A fool is he who goes thirsty with a river close by, and shivers in the east wind while a blazing fire roars on the warm hearth. The law sits armed by the threshold of a wanton bride; the girl who lies on a lawful bed knows no fear. The wealth of nature gives us enough for our fill: that which unbridled vanity teaches us to pursue has no end to it.
[23] Doves have made a nest in the soldier’s helmet: see how Venus loveth Mars.
[24] The Jew may worship his pig-god and clamour in the ears of high heaven, but unless he also cuts back his foreskin with the knife, he shall go forth from the holy city cast forth from the people, and transgress the sabbath by breaking the law of fasting.
[25] This is the one nobility and proof of honourable estate, that a man’s hands have shown no fear.
[26] At rest in bed, I had scarce begun to enjoy the first silence of night, and to give up my conquered eyes to sleep, when fierce Love took hold of me and drew me up by the hair, and tore me, bidding me watch till day. “Ah, my slave,” he said, “thou lover of a thousand girls, canst thou lie alone here, alone, oh hard of heart?” I leaped up, and with bare feet and disordered raiment started on every path and found a way by none. Now I run, now to move is weariness: I repent of turning back, and am ashamed to halt in the midst of the road. Lo, the voices of men and the roar of the streets, the singing of birds and the faithful company of watchdogs are all silent. I alone of all men dread both sleep and my bed, and follow thy command, great Lord of desire.
[27] Long may that night be dearto us, Nealce, that first laid you to rest upon my heart. Dear be the bed and the genius of the couch, and the silent lamp that saw you come softly to do our pleasure. Come, then, let us endure though we have grown older, and employ the years which a brief delay will blot out. It is lawful and right to prolong an old love: grant that what we began in haste may not hastily be ended.
[28] The pleasure of the act of love is gross and brief, and love once consummated brings loathing after it. Let us then not rush blindly thither straightway like lustful beasts, for love sickens and the flame dies down; but even so, even so, let us keep eternal holi day, and lie with thy lips to mine. No toil is here and no shame: in this, delight has been, and is, and long shall be; in this there is no diminution, but a beginning everlastingly.
[29] To love and accuse at one time were a labour Hercules himself could scarce have borne.
[30] Our eyes deceive us, and our wandering senses weigh down our reason and tell us falsehoods. For the tower which stands almost four-square has its corners blunted at a distance and becomes rounded. The full stomach turns from the honey of Hybla, and the nose often hates the scent of cinnamon. One thing could not please us more or less than another, unless the senses strove in set conflict with wavering balance.
[31] It is not the shrines of the gods, nor the powers of the air, that send the dreams which mock the mind with flitting shadows; each man makes dreams for himself. For when rest lies about the limbs subdued by sleep, and the mind plays with no weight upon it, it pursues in the darkness whatever was its task by daylight. The man who makes towns tremble in war, and overwhelms unhappy cities in flame, sees arms, and routed hosts, and the deaths of kings, and plains streaming with outpoured blood. They whose life is to plead cases have statutes and the courts before their eyes, and look with terror upon the judgement-seat surrounded by a throng. The miser hides his gains and discovers buried treasure. The hunter shakes the woods with his pack. The sailor snatches his shipwrecked bark from the waves, or grips it in death-agony. The woman writes to her lover, the adulteress yields herself: and the dog follows the tracks of the hare as he sleeps. The wounds of the unhappy endure into the night-season.
The Latin Text
Pozzuoli (ancients Puteoli), a city and comune in Campania — believed to be the opening setting of Satyricon
CONTENTS OF THE LATIN TEXT
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CONTENTS
SATIRICON
FRAGMENTA
SATIRICON
[I] “Num alio genere Furiarum declamatores inquietantur, qui
clamant: ‘Haec vulnera pro libertate publica excepi; hunc oculum pro vobis impendi: date mihi ducem, qui me ducat ad liberos meos, nam succisi poplites membra non sustinent’? Haec ipsa tolerabilia essent, si ad eloquentiam ituris viam facerent. Nunc et rerum tumore et sententiarum vanissimo strepitu hoc tantum proficiunt ut, cum in forum venerint, putent se in alium orbem terrarum delatos. Et ideo ego adulescentulos existimo in scholis stultissimos fieri, quia nihil ex his, quae in usu habemus, aut audiunt aut vident, sed piratas cum catenis in litore stantes, sed tyrannos edicta scribentes quibus imperent filiis ut patrum suorum capita praecidant, sed responsa in pestilentiam data, ut virgines tres aut plures immolentur, sed mellitos verborum globulos, et omnia dicta factaque quasi papavere et sesamo sparsa.
[II] “Qui inter haec nutriuntur, non magis sapere possunt quam bene olere qui in culina habitant. Pace vestra liceat dixisse, primi omnium eloquentiam perdidistis. Levibus enim atque inanibus sonis ludibria quaedam excitando, effecistis ut corpus orationis enervaretur et caderet. Nondum iuvenes declamationibus continebantur, cum Sophocles aut Euripides invenerunt verba quibus deberent loqui. Nondum umbraticus doctor ingenia deleverat, cum Pindarus novemque lyrici Homericis versibus canere timuerunt. Et ne poetas quidem ad testimonium citem, certe neque Platona neque Demosthenen ad hoc genus exercitationis accessisse video. Grandis et, ut ita dicam, pudica oratio non est maculosa nec turgida, sed naturali pulchritudine exsurgit. Nuper ventosa istaec et enormis loquacitas Athenas ex Asia commigravit animosque iuvenum ad magna surgentes veluti pestilenti quodam sidere adflavit, semelque corrupta regula eloquentia stetit et obmutuit. Ad summam, quis postea Thucydidis, quis Hyperidis ad famam processit? Ac ne carmen quidem sani coloris enituit, sed omnia quasi eodem cibo pasta non potuerunt usque ad senectutem canescere. Pictura quoque non alium exitum fecit, postquam Aegyptiorum audacia tam magnae artis compendiariam invenit.”