by Petronius
Quid factum est, quod tu proiectis, Iuppiter,armis
inter caelicolas fabula muta taces?
Nunc erat a torva submittere cornua fronte,
nunc pluma canos dissimulare tuos.
Haec vera est Danae. Tempta modo tangere corpus,
iam tua flammifero membra calore fluent.
[126] “Because you know your beauty you are haughty, and do not bestow your embraces, but sell them. What is the object of your nicely combed hair, your face plastered with dyes, and the soft fondness even in your glance, and your walk arranged by art so that lever a footstep strays from its place? It means of course that you offer your comeliness freely for sale. Look at me; I know nothing of omens, and I never attend to the astrologer’s sky, but I read character in a man’s face, and when I see him walk I know his thoughts. So if you will sell us what I want, there is a buyer ready: if you will be more gracious and bestow it upon us, let us be indebted to you for a favour. For when you admit that you are a slave of low degree, you fan the passion of a lady who burns for you. Some women kindle for vile fellows, and cannot rouse any desire unless they have a slave or a servant in short garments in their eye. Some burn for a gladiator, or a muleteer smothered in dust, or an actor disgraced by exhibiting himself on the stage. My mistress is of this class; she skips fourteen rows away from the orchestra, and hunts for a lover among the low people at the back.”
With my ears full of her winning words I then said,”It is not you, I suppose, who love me so?” The girl laughed loudly at such a clumsy turn of speech, and said, “Pray do not be so conceited. I never yielded to a slave yet, and God forbid that I should throw my arms round a gallows-bird. The married women may see to that, and kiss the scars of a flogging; I may be only a lady’s maid, for all that I never sit down in any seats but the knights’.” I began to marvel at their contrary passions, and to count them as portents, the maid having the pride of a married lady, and the married lady the low tastes of a wench.
Then as our jokes proceeded further, I asked the maid to bring her mistress into the grove of planetrees. The plan pleased the girl. So she gathered her skirts up higher, and turned into the laurel grove which grew close to our path. She was not long away before she led the lady out of her hidingplace, and brought her to my side. The woman was more perfect than any artist’s dream. There are no words that can include all her beauty, and whatever I write must fall short of her. Her hair grew in natural waves and flowed all over her shoulders, her forehead was small, and the roots of her hair brushed back from it, her brows ran to the edge of her cheekbones and almost met again close beside her eyes, and those eyes were brighter than stars far from the moon, and her nose had a little curve, and her mouth was the kind that Praxiteles dreamed Diana had. And her chin and her neck, and her hands, and the gleam of her foot under a light band of gold! She had turned the marble of Paros dull. So then at last I put my old passion for Doris to despite. . . .
“What is come to pass, Jupiter, that thou hast cast away thine armour, and now art silent in heaven and become an idle tale? Now were a time for thee to let the horns sprout on thy lowering forehead, or hide thy white hair under a swan’s feathers. This is the true Danae. Dare only to touch her body, and all thy limbs shall be loosened with fiery heat.” . . .
[CXXVII] Delectata illa risit tam blandum, ut videretur mihi plenum os extra nubem luna proferre. Mox digitis gubernantibus vocem: “Si non fastidis, inquit, feminam ornatam et hoc primum anno virum expertam, concilio tibi, o iuvenis, sororem. Habes tu quidem et fratrem — neque enim me piguit inquirere — sed quid prohibet et sororem adoptare? Eoden gradu venio. Tu tantum dignare et meum osculum, cum libuerit, agnoscere. — Immo, inquam, ego per formam tuam te rogo, ne fastidias hominem peregrinum inter cultores admittere. Invenies religiosum, si te adorari permiseris. Ac ne me iudices ad hoc templum Amoris gratis accedere, dono tibi fratrem meum. — Quid? tu, inquit illa, donas mihi eum, sine quo non potes vivere, ex cuius osculo pendes, quem sic tu amas, quemadmodum ego te volo?” Haec ipsa cum diceret, tanta gratia conciliabat vocem loquentis, tam dulcis sonus pertemptatum mulcebat aera, ut putares inter auras canere Sirenum concordiam. Itaque miranti, et toto mihi caelo clarius nescio quid relucente, libuit deae nomen quaerere. “Ita, inquit, non dixit tibi ancilla mea Circen me vocari? Non sum quidem Solis progenies, nec mea mater, dum placet, labentis mundi cursum detinuit. Habebo tamen quod caelo imputem, si nos fata coniunxerint. Immo iam nescio quid tacitis cogitationibus deus agit. Nec sine causa Polyaenon Circe amat: semper inter haec nomina magna fax surgit. Sume ergo amplexum, si placet. Neque est quod curiosum aliquem extimescas: longe ab hoc loco frater est.” Dixit haec Circe, implicitumque me brachiis mollioribus pluma deduxit in terram vario gramine indutam.
Idaeo quales fudit de vertice flores
Terra parens, cum se concesso iunxit amori
Iuppiter et toto concepit pectore flammas:
emicuere rosae violaeque et molle cyperon,
albaque de viridi riserunt lilia prato:
talis humus Venerem molles clamavit in herbas
candidiorque dies secreto favit amori.
In hoc gramine pariter compositi mille osculis lusimus quaerentes voluptatem robustam. <. . .>
[127] She was happy, and smiled so sweetly that I thought the full moon had shown me her face from behind a cloud. Then she said, letting the words escape through her fingers, “If you do not despise a rich woman who has known a man first this very year, dear youth, I will give you a new sister. True, you have a brother, too, for I made bold to inquire, but why should you not take to yourself a sister as well? I will come as the same kind of relation. Deign only to recognize my kiss also when it is your good pleasure.”
“I should rather implore you by your beauty,” I replied, “not to scorn to enrol a stranger among your worshippers. You will find me a true votary, if you allow me to kneel before you. And do not think that I would enter this shrine of Love without an offering; I will give you my own brother.”
“What,” she said, “you give me the one without whom you cannot live, on whose lips you hang, whom you love as I would have you love me?” Even as she spoke grace made her words so attractive, the sweet noise fell so softly upon the listening air, that you seemed to have the harmony of the Sirens ringing in the breeze. So as I marvelled, and all the light of the sky somehow fell brighter upon me, I was moved to ask my goddess her name. “Then my maid did not tell you that I am called Circe?” she said. “I am not the Sun-child indeed, and my mother has never stayed the moving world in its course while she will. But I shall have a debt to pay to Heaven if fate brings you and me together. Surely now, the Gods with their quiet thoughts have some plan in the making. Circe does not love Polyaenus without good reason; when these two names meet, a great fire is always set ablaze. Then take me in your embrace if you like. You need have no fear of any spy; your brother is far away from here.”
Circe was silent, folded me in two arms softer than a bird’s wing, and drew me to the ground on a carpet of coloured flowers.
“Such flowers as Earth, our mother, spread on Ida’s top when Jupiter embraced her and she yielded her love, and all his heart was kindled with fire: roses glowed there, and violets, and the tender flowering rush; and white lilies laughed from the green grass: such a soil summoned Venus to the soft grasses, and the day grew brighter and looked kindly on their hidden pleasure.”
We lay together there among the flowers and exchanged a thousand light kisses, but we looked for sterner play. . . .
[CXXVIIII] CIRCE AD POLYAENVM: “Quid est? inquit; numquid te osculum meum offendit? Numquid spiritus ieiunio marcet? Numquid alarum negligens sudor? Puto, si haec non sunt, numquid Gitona times?” Perfusus ego rubore manifesto etiam si quid habueram virium, perdidi, totoque corpore velut laxato:
“Quaeso, inquam, regina, noli suggillare miserias. Veneficio contactus sum”. <. . .>
CIRCE: “Dic, Chrysis, sed verum: numquid indecens sum? Numquid incompta? numquid ab aliquo naturali vitio
formam meam excaeco? Noli decipere dominam tuam. Nescio quid peccavimus.” Rapuit deinde tacenti speculum, et postquam omnes vultus temptavit, quos solet inter amantes risus fingere, excussit vexatam solo vestem raptimque aedem Veneris intravit. Ego contra damnatus et quasi quodam visu in horrorem perductus interrogare animum meum coepi, an vera voluptate fraudatus essem.
Nocte soporifera veluti cum somnia ludunt
errantes oculos effossaque protulit aurum
in lucem tellus: versat manus improba furtum
thesaurosque rapit, sudor quoque perluit ora
et mentem timor altus habet, ne forte gravatum
excutiat gremium secreti conscius auri:
mox ubi fugerunt elusam gaudia mentem
veraque forma redit, animus, quod perdidit, optat
atque in praeterita se totus imagine versat. <. . .>
GITON AD ENCOLPION: “Itaque hoc nomine tibi gratias ago, quod me Socratica fide diligis. Non tam intactus Alcibiades in praeceptoris sui lecto iacuit”.
[128] “Tell me,” she cried, “do you find no joy in my lips? Nor in the breath that faints with hunger? Nor in my body wet with heat? If it is none of these, are you afraid of Giton?” I crimsoned with blushes under her eyes, and lost any strength I might have had before, and cried as though there were no whole part in my body, “Dear lady, have mercy, do not mock my grief. Some poison has infected me.”.
“Speak to me, Chrysis, tell me true: am I ugly or untidy? Is there some natural blemish that darkens my beauty? Do not deceive your own mistress. I know not how, but I have sinned.” She then snatched a glass from the silent girl, and after trying every look that raises a smile to most lovers’ lips, she shook out the cloak the earth had stained, and hurried into the temple of Venus. But I was lost and horror-stricken as if I had seen a ghost, and began to inquire of my heart whether I was cheated of my true delight.
As when dreams deceive our wandering eyes in the heavy slumber of night, and under the spade the earth yields gold to the light of day: our greedy hands finger the spoil and snatch at the treasure, sweat too runs down our face, and a deep fear grips our heart that maybe some one will shake out our laden bosom, where he knows the gold is hid: soon, when these pleasures flee from the brain they mocked, and the true shape of things comes back, our mind is eager for what is lost, and moves with all its force among the shadows of the past . .
“So in his name I give you thanks for loving me as true as Socrates. Alcibiades never lay so unspotted in his master’s bed.” . .
[CXXIX] ENCOLPIVS AD GITONEM: “Crede mihi, frater, non intellego me virum esse, non sentio. Funerata est illa pars corporis, qua quondam Achilles eram”. <. . .>
Veritus puer ne in secreto deprehensus daret sermonibus locum, proripuit se et in partem aedium interiorem fugit. <. . .>
Cubiculum autem meum Chrysis intravit, codicillosque mihi dominae suae reddidit, in quibus haec erant scripta: “CIRCE POLYAENO SALVTEM. Si libidinosa essem, quererer decepta; nunc etiam languori tuo gratias ago. In umbra voluptatis diutius lusi. Quid tamen agas quaero, et an tuis pedibus perveneris domum; negant enim medici sine nervis homines ambulare posse. Narrabo tibi, adulescens, paralysin cave. Nunquam ego aegrum tam magno periculo vidi; medius iam peristi. Quod si idem frigus genua manusque temptaverit tuas, licet ad tubicines mittas. Quid ergo est? Etiam si gravem iniuriam accepi, homini tamen misero non invideo medicinam. Si vis sanus esse, Gitonem roga. Recipies, inquam, nervos tuos, si triduo sine fratre dormieris. Nam quod ad me attinet, non timeo ne quis inveniatur cui minus placeam. Nec speculum mihi nec fama mentitur. Vale, si potes.” Vt intellexit Chrysis perlegisse me totum convicium: “Solent, inquit, haec fieri, et praecipue in hac civitate, in qua mulieres etiam lunam deducunt. <. . .> Itaque huius quoque rei cura agetur. Rescribe modo blandius dominae, animumque eius candida humanitate restitue. Verum enim fatendum: ex qua hora iniuriam accepit, apud se non est”. Libenter quidem parui ancillae, verbaque codicillis talia imposui:
[129] “I tell you, brother, I do not realize that I am a man, I do not feel it. That part of my body where I was once an Achilles is dead and buried.” . . .
The boy was afraid that he might give an opening for scandal if he were caught in a quiet place with me, and tore himself away and fled into an inner part of the house. . . .
Chrysis came into my room and gave me a letter from her mistress, who wrote as follows: “Circe greets Polyaenus. If I were a passionate woman, I should feel betrayed and hurt: as it is I can be thankful even for your coldness. I have amused myself too long with the shadow of pleasure. But I should like to know how you are, and whether your feet carried you safely home; the doctors say that people who have lost their sinews cannot walk. I tell you what, young man, you must beware of paralysis. I have never seen a sick person in such grave danger; I declare you are as good as dead. If the same mortal chill attacks your knees and hands, you may send for the funeral trumpeters. And what about me? Well even if I have been deeply wounded, I do not grudge a poor man a cure. If you want to get well, ask Giton. I think you will recover your sinews if you sleep for three days without your brother. So far as I am concerned, I am not afraid of finding anyone who dislikes me more. My looking-glass and my reputation do not lie. Keep as well as you can.”
When Chrysis saw that I had read through the whole of this complaint, she said: “These things often happen, especially in this town, where the women can even draw down the moon from the sky, and so attention will be paid to this matter also. Only do write back more gently to my mistress, and restore her spirits by your frank kindness. For I must tell you the truth: she has never been herself from the moment you insulted her.”
[CXXX] “POLYAENOS CIRCAE SALVTEM. Fateor me, domina, saepe peccasse; nam et homo sum et adhuc iuvenis. Numquam tamen ante hunc diem usque ad mortem deliqui. Habes confitentem reum: quicquid iusseris, merui. Proditionem feci, hominem occidi, templum violavi: in haec facinora quaere supplicium. Sive occidere placet, ferro meo venio; sive verberibus contenta es, curro nudus ad dominam. Illud unum memento, non me sed instrumenta peccasse. Paratus miles arma non habui. Quis hoc turbaverit nescio. Forsitan animus antecessit corporis moram, forsitan dum omnia concupisco, voluptatem tempore consumpsi. Non invenio quod feci. Paralysin tamen cavere iubes: tanquam iam maior fieri possit, quae abstulit mihi per quod etiam te habere potui. Summa tamen excusationis meae haec est: placebo tibi, si me culpam emendare permiseris.” Dimissa cum eiusmodi pollicitatione Chryside curavi diligentius noxiosissimum corpus, balneoque praeterito modica unctione usus, mox cibis validioribus pastus, id est bulbis cochlearumque sine iure cervicibus, hausi parcius merum. Hinc ante somnum levissima ambulatione compositus sine Gitone cubiculum intravi. Tanta erat placandi cura, ut timerem ne latus meum frater convelleret.
[130] I obeyed the girl with pleasure and wrote on a tablet as follows: “Polyaenus greets Circe. Dear lady, I admit my many failings; for I am human, and still young. But never before this day have I committed deadly sin. The culprit confesses to you; I have deserved whatever you may order. I have been a traitor, I have destroyed a man, and profaned a temple: demand my punishment for these crimes. If you decide on execution, I will come with my sword; if you let me off with a flogging, I will run naked to my lady. Illud unum memento, non me sed instrumenta peccasse. Paratus miles arma non habui. Who upset me so I know not. Perhaps my will ran on while my body lagged behind, perhaps I wasted all my pleasure in delay by desiring too much. I cannot discover what I did. But you tell me to beware of paralysis: as if the disease could grow worse, which has taken away from me the means of making you my own. But my apology amounts to this — I will do your pleasure if you allow me to mend my fault.” . . .
Chrysis was sent off with this promise, and I paid great attention to my offending body, and after leaving my bath anointed myself in moderation, and then fed on strong foods, onions, I mean, and snails’ heads without sauce, and drank sparingly of wine. I then settled myself with a gentle walk before bed, and went into my room without Giton. I was so anxious
to please her that I was afraid my brother might take away my strength.
SECTIONS CXXXI TO CXL.
[CXXXI] Postero die, cum sine offensa corporis animique consurrexissem, in eundem platanona descendi, etiam si locum inauspicatum timebam, coepique inter arbores ducem itineris expectare Chrysidem. Nec diu spatiatus consederam, ubi hesterno die fueram, cum illa intervenit comitem aniculam trahens. Atque ut me consalutavit: “Quid est, inquit, fastose, ecquid bonam mentem habere coepisti?” Illa de sinu licium prolulit varii coloris filis intortum, cervicemque vinxit meam. Mox turbatum sputo pulverem medio sustulit digito, frontemque repugnantis signavit. <. . .>
Hoc peracto carmine ter me iussit expuere terque lapillos conicere in sinum, quos ipsa praecantatos purpura involuerat, admotisque manibus temptare coepit inguinum vires. Dicto citius nervi paruerunt imperio, manusque aniculae ingenti motu repleverunt. At illa gaudio exultans: “Vides, inquit, Chrysis mea, vides, quod aliis leporem excitavi?”
Mobilis aestivas platanus diffuderat umbras
et bacis redimita Daphne tremulaeque cupressus
et circum tonsae trepidanti vertice pinus.
Has inter ludebat aquis errantibus amnis