Delphi Complete Works of Juvena
Page 39
ancilla natus trabeam et diadema Quirini
et fascis meruit, regum ultimus ille bonorum. 260
prodita laxabant portarum claustra tyrannis
exulibus iuuenes ipsius consulis et quos
magnum aliquid dubia pro libertate deceret,
quod miraretur cum Coclite Mucius et quae
imperii finis Tiberinum uirgo natauit. 265
occulta ad patres produxit crimina seruus
matronis lugendus; at illos uerbera iustis
adficiunt poenis et legum prima securis.
[259] It was one born of a slave who won the robe and diadem and fasces of Quirinus — the last he of our good Kings — whereas the Consul’s own sons, who should have dared some great thing for endangered liberty — some deed to be marvelled at by Mucius or Cocles, or by the maiden who swam across the river-boundary of our realm — were for traitorously loosing the bolts of the city gates to the exiled tyrants. It was a slave — well worthy he to be bewailed by matrons — who revealed the secret plot to the Fathers, while the sons met their just punishment from scourging and from the axe then first used in the cause of Law.
malo pater tibi sit Thersites, dummodo tu sis
Aeacidae similis Volcaniaque arma capessas, 270
quam te Thersitae similem producat Achilles.
et tamen, ut longe repetas longeque reuoluas
nomen, ab infami gentem deducis asylo;
maiorum primus, quisquis fuit ille, tuorum
aut pastor fuit aut illud quod dicere nolo.
[269] I would rather that Thersites were your father if only you were like the grandson of Aeacus, and could wield the arms of Vulcan, than that you should have been begotten by Achilles and be like Thersites. Yet, after all, however far you may trace back your name, however long the roll, you derive your race from an ill-famed asylum: the first of your ancestors, whoever he was, was either a shepherd or something that I would rather not name.
Satire 9. The Sorrows of a Reprobate
Scire uelim quare totiens mihi, Naeuole, tristis
occurras fronte obducta ceu Marsya uictus.
quid tibi cum uultu, qualem deprensus habebat
Rauola dum Rhodopes uda terit inguina barba?
[nos colaphum incutimus lambenti crustula seruo.] 5
non erit hac facie miserabilior Crepereius
Pollio, qui triplicem usuram praestare paratus
circumit et fatuos non inuenit. unde repente
tot rugae? certe modico contentus agebas
uernam equitem, conuiua ioco mordente facetus 10
et salibus uehemens intra pomeria natis.
omnia nunc contra, uultus grauis, horrida siccae
silua comae, nullus tota nitor in cute, qualem
Bruttia praestabat calidi tibi fascia uisci,
sed fruticante pilo neglecta et squalida crura. 15
quid macies aegri ueteris, quem tempore longo
torret quarta dies olimque domestica febris?
deprendas animi tormenta latentis in aegro
corpore, deprendas et gaudia; sumit utrumque
inde habitum facies. igitur flexisse uideris 20
propositum et uitae contrarius ire priori.
nuper enim, ut repeto, fanum Isidis et Ganymedem
Pacis et aduectae secreta Palatia matris
et Cererem (nam quo non prostat femina templo?)
notior Aufidio moechus celebrare solebas, 25
quodque taces, ipsos etiam inclinare maritos.
[1] I should like to know, Naevolus, why you so often look gloomy when I meet you, knitting your brow like a vanquished Marsyas. What have you to do with the look that Ravola wore when caught playing that dirty trick with Rhodope? If a slave takes a lick at the pastry, he gets a thrashing for his pains! Why do you look as woe-begone as Crepereius Pollio when he goes round offering a triple rate of interest, and can find no fool to trust him? Why have you suddenly developed those wrinkles? You used to be an easily contented person, who passed as a home-bred knight that could make biting jests at the dinner-table and tell witty town-bred stories. But now you are a different man. You have a hang-dog look; your head is a forest of unkempt, unanointed hair; your skin has lost all the gloss that it got from swathes of hot Bruttian pitch, and your legs are dirty and rough with sprouting hair. Why are you as thin as a chronic invalid in whom a quartan fever has long made its home? One can detect in a sickly body the secret torments of the soul, as also its joys: the face takes on the stamp of either. You seem, therefore, to have changed your mode of life, and to be going in a way opposite to your past. Not long ago, as I remember, you were a gallant more notorious than Aundius; you used to frequent the Temple of Isis and that of Peace with its Ganymede, and the secret courts of the Foreign Mother — for in what temple are there not frail fair ones to be found?
‘utile et hoc multis uitae genus, at mihi nullum
inde operae pretium. pingues aliquando lacernas,
munimenta togae, duri crassique coloris
et male percussas textoris pectine Galli 30
accipimus, tenue argentum uenaeque secundae.
fata regunt homines, fatum est et partibus illis
quas sinus abscondit. nam si tibi sidera cessant,
nil faciet longi mensura incognita nerui,
quamuis te nudum spumanti Virro labello 35
uiderit et blandae adsidue densaeque tabellae
sollicitent, autos gar ephelketai andra kinaidos.
quod tamen ulterius monstrum quam mollis auarus?
“haec tribui, deinde illa dedi, mox plura tulisti.”
computat et ceuet. ponatur calculus, adsint 40
cum tabula pueri; numera sestertia quinque
omnibus in rebus, numerentur deinde labores.
an facile et pronum est agere intra uiscera penem
legitimum atque illic hesternae occurrere cenae?
seruus erit minus ille miser qui foderit agrum 45
quam dominum. sed tu sane tenerum et puerum te
et pulchrum et dignum cyatho caeloque putabas.
uos humili adseculae, uos indulgebitis umquam
cultori, iam nec morbo donare parati?
en cui tu uiridem umbellam, cui sucina mittas 50
grandia, natalis quotiens redit aut madidum uer
incipit et strata positus longaque cathedra
munera femineis tractat secreta kalendis.
[27] “Many men have found profit in my mode of life; but I have made nothing substantial out of my labours. I sometimes have a greasy cloak given me that will save my toga — a coarse and crudely dyed garment that has been ill-combed by the Gallic weaver — or some trifle in silver of an inferior quality. Man is ruled by destiny; even those parts of him that lie beneath his clothes. . . . What greater monster is there in the world than a miserly debauchee? ‘I gave you this,’ says he, ‘and then that; and later again ever so much more.’ Thus he makes a reckoning with his lusts. Well, set out the counters, call in the lads with the reckoning board, count out five thousand sesterces all told, and then enumerate my services. ... I am less accounted of than the poor hind who ploughs his master’s field. You used to deem yourself a delicate and good-looking youth, fit to be Jove’s own cup-bearer; but will men like you, who are unwilling to pay for your own morbid pleasures, ever show a kindness to a poor follower or a slave? A pretty fellow to have presents sent him of green sunshades or big amber balls on a birthday, or on the first day of showery spring, when he lolls at full length in a huge easy chair counting over the secret gifts he has received upon the Matron’s Day!
dic, passer, cui tot montis, tot praedia seruas
Apula, tot miluos intra tua pascua lassas? 55
te Trifolinus ager fecundis uitibus implet
suspectumque iugum Cumis et Gaurus inanis —
nam quis plura linit uicturo dolia musto? —
quantum erat exhausti lumbos donare clientis
iugeribus paucis! meliusne hic rusticus infans 60
; cum matre et casulis et conlusore catello
cymbala pulsantis legatum fiet amici?
“improbus es cum poscis” ait. sed pensio clamat
“posce,” sed appellat puer unicus ut Polyphemi
lata acies per quam sollers euasit Vlixes. 65
alter emendus erit, namque hic non sufficit, ambo
pascendi. quid agam bruma spirante? quid, oro,
quid dicam scapulis puerorum aquilone Decembri
et pedibus? “durate atque expectate cicadas”?
[54] “Tell me, you sparrow, for whose benefit are you keeping all those hills and farms in Apulia, all those pasture-lands that tire out the kites? Your stores are filled with rich grapes from your Trifoline vineyard, or from the slopes that look down upon Cumae, or the unpeopled Gaurus; whose vats seal up more vintages destined for long life than yours? Would it be a great matter to present a few acres to the loins of an exhausted client? Is it better, think you, that this country woman, with her cottage and her babe and her pet dog, should be bequeathed to a friend who plays the timbrels? ‘You’re an impudent beggar,’ you say. Yes, but my rent cries on me to beg; and so does my single slave-lad — as single as that big eye of Polyphemus which helped the wily Ulysses to make his escape. And one slave is not enough; I shall have to buy a second and feed them both. What shall I do, pray, when the winter howls? What shall I say to their shivering feet and shoulders when December’s north wind blows? Shall I say ‘Hold on, and wait till the grasshoppers arrive’?
uerum, ut dissimules, ut mittas cetera, quanto 70
metiris pretio quod, ni tibi deditus essem
deuotusque cliens, uxor tua uirgo maneret?
scis certe quibus ista modis, quam saepe rogaris
et quae pollicitus. fugientem saepe puellam
amplexu rapui; tabulas quoque ruperat et iam 75
signabat; tota uix hoc ego nocte redemi
te plorante foris. testis mihi lectulus et tu,
ad quem peruenit lecti sonus et dominae uox.
instabile ac dirimi coeptum et iam paene solutum
coniugium in multis domibus seruauit adulter. 80
quo te circumagas? quae prima aut ultima ponas?
nullum ergo meritum est, ingrate ac perfide, nullum
quod tibi filiolus uel filia nascitur ex me?
tollis enim et libris actorum spargere gaudes
argumenta uiri. foribus suspende coronas: 85
iam pater es, dedimus quod famae opponere possis.
iura parentis habes, propter me scriberis heres,
legatum omne capis nec non et dulce caducum.
commoda praeterea iungentur multa caducis,
[70] “And though you ignore and pass by my other services, what price do you put on this, that were I not your true and devoted client, your wife would still be a maid? You know how often, and in what ways, you have asked that service of me, and what promises you made to me. . . . There’s many a household in which a union that was unstable, ready to break up, and all but dissolved, has been saved by the intervention of a lover. Which way can you turn? Which service do you put first, which last? Is it to be no merit, you thankless and perfidious man, none at all, that I have presented you with a little son or daughter? For you rear the children, and love to spread abroad in the gazette the proofs of your virility. Hang up garlands over your door! You are now a father; I have given you something to set up against ill fame. You have now parental rights; through me you can be entered as an heir, and receive a legacy entire, with a nice little extra into the bargain; to all which perquisites many more will be added if I make up your family to the full number of three.”
si numerum, si tres impleuero.’ iusta doloris, 90
Naeuole, causa tui; contra tamen ille quid adfert?
‘neglegit atque alium bipedem sibi quaerit asellum.
haec soli commissa tibi celare memento
et tacitus nostras intra te fige querellas;
nam res mortifera est inimicus pumice leuis. 95
qui modo secretum commiserat, ardet et odit,
tamquam prodiderim quidquid scio. sumere ferrum,
fuste aperire caput, candelam adponere ualuis
non dubitat. nec contemnas aut despicias quod
his opibus numquam cara est annona ueneni. 100
ergo occulta teges ut curia Martis Athenis.’
[90] Indeed, Naevolus, you have just cause of complaint. But what has he got to say on the other side? “He takes no notice, and looks out for another two-legged donkey like myself. But remember, my secrets are for your ears alone; keep my complaints fast locked up in your own bosom. It is a fatal thing to have for your enemy a man who keeps himself smooth by pumice-stone! The man who has lately entrusted me with a secret has a consuming hatred of me, believing I have revealed everything that I know; he will not hesitate to take up a sword, or to lay open my head with a club, or to put a lighted candle against my door. Nor can you disregard or make nothing of the fact that for a man of his means the price of poison is never high. So keep my secrets close — as close as did the Council of Areopagus!”
o Corydon, Corydon, secretum diuitis ullum
esse putas? serui ut taceant, iumenta loquentur
et canis et postes et marmora. claude fenestras,
uela tegant rimas, iunge ostia, tollite lumen, 105
e medio fac eant omnes, prope nemo recumbat;
quod tamen ad cantum galli facit ille secundi
proximus ante diem caupo sciet, audiet et quae
finxerunt pariter libarius, archimagiri,
carptores. quod enim dubitant componere crimen 110
in dominos, quotiens rumoribus ulciscuntur
baltea? nec derit qui te per compita quaerat
nolentem et miseram uinosus inebriet aurem.
illos ergo roges quidquid paulo ante petebas
a nobis, taceant illi. sed prodere malunt 115
arcanum quam subrepti potare Falerni
pro populo faciens quantum Saufeia bibebat.
uiuendum recte, cum propter plurima, ~tunc est~
idcirco ut possis linguam contemnere serui.
[praecipue causis, ut linguas mancipiorum 120
contemnas; nam lingua mali pars pessima serui.
deterior tamen hic qui liber non erit illis
quorum animas et farre suo custodit et aere.]
[102] O my poor Corydon! Do you suppose that a rich man has any secrets? Though his slaves hold their tongues, his beasts of burden and his dog will talk; his door posts and his marble columns will tell tales. Let him shut the windows, and close every chink with curtains; let him fasten the doors, remove the light, turn everyone out of the house, and permit no one to sleep in it — yet the tavern-keeper close by will know before dawn what he was doing at the second cock-crow; he will hear also all the tales invented by the pastry-man, by the head cook and the carver. For what calumny will they hesitate to concoct against their masters when a slander will avenge them for their strappings? Nor will some tippling friend be wanting to look for you at the crossways, and, do what you will, pour his drunken story into your ear. So just ask those people to hold their tongues about the things you questioned me about just now! Why, they would rather blab out a secret than drink as much stolen wine as Saufeia used to swill when conducting a public sacrifice. There are many reasons for right living; but the chiefest of them all is this, that you need pay no attention to the talk of your slaves. For the tongue is the worst part of a bad slave; and yet worse still is the plight of a man who cannot escape from the talk of those whom he supports with his own bread and money.
‘utile consilium modo, sed commune, dedisti.
nunc mihi quid suades post damnum temporis et spes 125
deceptas? festinat enim decurrere uelox
flosculus angustae miseraeque breuissima uitae
portio; dum bibimus, dum serta, unguenta, puellas
poscimus, obrepit non intellecta senectus.’
[124] “Your advice is excellen
t, but it is vague. What do you advise me to do now, after all my lost time and disappointed hopes? for the short span of our poor unhappy life is hurrying swiftly on, like a flower, to its close: while we drink, and call for chaplets, for unguents, and for maidens, old age is creeping on us unperceived.”
ne trepida, numquam pathicus tibi derit amicus 130
stantibus et saluis his collibus; undique ad illos
conuenient et carpentis et nauibus omnes
qui digito scalpunt uno caput. altera maior
spes superest, tu tantum erucis inprime dentem.
[gratus eris, tu tantum erucis inprime dentem.] 134a
[130] Be not afraid; so long as these seven hills of ours stand fast, pathic friends will never fail you: from every quarter, in carriages and in ships, those gentry who scratch their heads with one finger will flock in. And you have always a further and better ground of hope — if you fit your diet to your trade.
‘haec exempla para felicibus; at mea Clotho
et Lachesis gaudent, si pascitur inguine uenter.
o parui nostrique Lares, quos ture minuto
aut farre et tenui soleo exorare corona,
quando ego figam aliquid quo sit mihi tuta senectus
a tegete et baculo? uiginti milia fenus 140
pigneribus positis, argenti uascula puri,
sed quae Fabricius censor notet, et duo fortes
de grege Moesorum, qui me ceruice locata
securum iubeant clamoso insistere circo;
sit mihi praeterea curuus caelator, et alter 145
qui multas facies pingit cito; sufficiunt haec.
quando ego pauper ero? uotum miserabile, nec spes
his saltem; nam cum pro me Fortuna uocatur,
adfixit ceras illa de naue petitas
quae Siculos cantus effugit remige surdo.’
[135] “Such maxims are for the fortunate; my Clotho and Lachesis are well pleased if I can fill my belly with my labours. O my own little Lares, whom I am wont to supplicate with a pinch of frankincense or corn, or with a tiny garland, when can I assure myself of what will keep my old days from the beggar’s staff and mat? Twenty thousand sesterces, well secured; some vessels of plain silver — yet such as Censor Fabricius would have condemned — and a couple of stout Moesian porters on whose hired necks I may be taken comfortably to my place in the bawling circus. Let me have besides a stooping engraver, and a painter who will quickly dash off any number of likenesses. Enough this for a poor man like me. It is a pitiful prayer, and I have little hope even of that; for whenever Fortune is supplicated on my behalf, she plugs her ears with wax fetched from that selfsame ship which escaped from the Sicilian songstresses through the deafness of her crew.”