cum Gaetula ducem portaret belua luscum!
exitus ergo quis est? o gloria! uincitur idem
nempe et in exilium praeceps fugit atque ibi magnus 160
mirandusque cliens sedet ad praetoria regis,
donec Bithyno libeat uigilare tyranno.
finem animae, quae res humanas miscuit olim,
non gladii, non saxa dabunt nec tela, sed ille
Cannarum uindex et tanti sanguinis ultor 165
anulus. i, demens, et saeuas curre per Alpes
ut pueris placeas et declamatio fias.
[147] Put Hannibal into the scales; how many pounds’ weight will you find in that greatest of commanders? This is the man for whom Africa was all too small — a land beaten by the Moorish sea and stretching to the steaming Nile, and then, again, to the tribes of Aethiopia and a new race of Elephants! Spain is added to his dominions: he overleaps the Pyrenees; Nature throws in his way Alps and snow: he splits the rocks asunder, and breaks up the mountain-side with vinegar! And now Italy is in his grasp, but still on he presses: “Nought is accomplished,” he cries, “until my Punic host breaks down the city gates, and I plant my standard in the midst of the Subura! “ O what a sight was that! What a picture it would make, the one-eyed General riding on the Gaetulian monster! What then was his end? Alas for glory! A conquered man, he flees headlong into exile, and there he sits, a mighty and marvellous suppliant, in the King’s antechamber, until it please his Bithynian Majesty to awake! No sword, no stone, no javelin shall end the life which once wrought havoc throughout the world: that little ring shall avenge Cannae and all those seas of blood. On! on! thou madman, and race over the wintry Alps, that thou mayest be the delight of schoolboys and supply declaimers with a theme!
unus Pellaeo iuueni non sufficit orbis,
aestuat infelix angusto limite mundi
ut Gyarae clausus scopulis paruaque Seripho; 170
cum tamen a figulis munitam intrauerit urbem,
sarcophago contentus erit. mors sola fatetur
quantula sint hominum corpuscula. creditur olim
uelificatus Athos et quidquid Graecia mendax
audet in historia, constratum classibus isdem 175
suppositumque rotis solidum mare; credimus altos
defecisse amnes epotaque flumina Medo
prandente et madidis cantat quae Sostratus alis.
ille tamen qualis rediit Salamine relicta,
in Corum atque Eurum solitus saeuire flagellis 180
barbarus Aeolio numquam hoc in carcere passos,
ipsum conpedibus qui uinxerat Ennosigaeum
(mitius id sane, quod non et stigmate dignum
credidit. huic quisquam uellet seruire deorum?) —
sed qualis rediit? nempe una naue, cruentis 185
fluctibus ac tarda per densa cadauera prora.
has totiens optata exegit gloria poenas.
[168] One globe is all too little for the youth of Pella; he chafes uneasily within the narrow limits of the world, as though he were cooped up within the rocks of Gyara or the diminutive Seriphos; but yet when once he shall have entered the city fortified by the potter’s art, a sarcophagus will suffice him! Death alone proclaims how small are our poor human bodies! We have heard how ships once sailed through Mount Athos, and all the lying tales of Grecian history; how the sea was paved by those self-same ships, and gave solid support to chariot-wheels; how deep rivers failed, and whole streams were drunk dry when the Persian breakfasted, with all the fables of which Sostratus sings with reeking pinions. But in what plight did that king flee from Salamis? he that had been wont to inflict barbaric stripes upon the winds Corus and Eurus — never treated thus in their Aeolian prison-house — he who had bound the Earth-shaker himself with chains, deeming it clemency, forsooth, not to think him worthy of a branding also: what god, indeed, would be willing to serve such a master? — in what plight did he return? Why, in a single ship; on blood-stained waves, the prow slowly forcing her way through waters thick with corpses! Such was the penalty exacted for that long-desired glory!
‘da spatium uitae, multos da, Iuppiter, annos.’
hoc recto uoltu, solum hoc et pallidus optas.
sed quam continuis et quantis longa senectus 190
plena malis! deformem et taetrum ante omnia uultum
dissimilemque sui, deformem pro cute pellem
pendentisque genas et talis aspice rugas
quales, umbriferos ubi pandit Thabraca saltus,
in uetula scalpit iam mater simia bucca. 195
plurima sunt iuuenum discrimina, pulchrior ille
hoc atque +ille+ alio, multum hic robustior illo:
una senum facies, cum uoce trementia membra
et iam leue caput madidique infantia nasi;
frangendus misero gingiua panis inermi. 200
usque adeo grauis uxori natisque sibique,
ut captatori moueat fastidia Cosso.
non eadem uini atque cibi torpente palato
gaudia; nam coitus iam longa obliuio, uel si
coneris, iacet exiguus cum ramice neruus 205
et, quamuis tota palpetur nocte, iacebit.
anne aliquid sperare potest haec inguinis aegri
canities? quid quod merito suspecta libido est
quae uenerem adfectat sine uiribus?
[188] Give me length of days, give me many years, O Jupiter! Such is your one and only prayer, in days of strength or of sickness; yet how great, how unceasing, are the miseries of old age! Look first at the misshapen and ungainly face, so unlike its former self; see the unsightly hide that serves for skin; see the pendulous cheeks and the wrinkles like those which a matron baboon carves upon her aged jaws in the shaded glades of Thabraca. The young men differ in various ways: this man is handsomer than that, and he than another; one is stronger than another: but old men all look alike. Their voices are as shaky as their limbs, their heads without hair, their noses drivelling as in childhood. Their bread, poor wretches, has to be munched by toothless gums; so offensive do they become to their wives, their children and themselves, that even the legacy-hunter, Cossus, turns from them in disgust. Their sluggish palate takes joy in wine or food no longer, and all pleasures of the flesh have been long ago forgotten. . . .
aspice partis
nunc damnum alterius. nam quae cantante uoluptas, 210
sit licet eximius, citharoedo siue Seleuco
et quibus aurata mos est fulgere lacerna?
quid refert, magni sedeat qua parte theatri
qui uix cornicines exaudiet atque tubarum
concentus? clamore opus est ut sentiat auris 215
quem dicat uenisse puer, quot nuntiet horas.
[209] And now consider the loss of another sense: what joy has the old man in song, however famous be the singer? what joy in the harping of Seleucus himself, or of those who shine resplendent in gold-embroidered robes? What matters it in what part of the great theatre he sits when he can scarce hear the horns and trumpets when they all blow together? The slave who announces a visitor, or tells the time of day, must needs shout in his ear if he is to be heard.
praeterea minimus gelido iam in corpore sanguis
febre calet sola, circumsilit agmine facto
morborum omne genus, quorum si nomina quaeras,
promptius expediam quot amauerit Oppia moechos, 220
quot Themison aegros autumno occiderit uno,
quot Basilus socios, quot circumscripserit Hirrus
pupillos, quot longa uiros exorbeat uno
Maura die, quot discipulos inclinet Hamillus;
percurram citius quot uillas possideat nunc 225
quo tondente grauis iuueni mihi barba sonabat.
ille umero, hic lumbis, hic coxa debilis; ambos
perdidit ille oculos et luscis inuidet; huius
pallida labra cibum accipiunt digitis alienis,
ipse ad conspectum cenae diducere rictum 230
suetus hiat tantum ceu pullus hirundinis, ad quem
&nb
sp; ore uolat pleno mater ieiuna. sed omni
membrorum damno maior dementia, quae nec
nomina seruorum nec uoltum agnoscit amici
cum quo praeterita cenauit nocte, nec illos 235
quos genuit, quos eduxit. nam codice saeuo
heredes uetat esse suos, bona tota feruntur
ad Phialen; tantum artificis ualet halitus oris,
quod steterat multis in carcere fornicis annis.
[217] Besides all this, the little blood in his now chilly frame is never warm except with fever; diseases of every kind dance around him in a body; if you ask of me their names, I could more readily tell you the number of Oppia’s paramours, how many patients Themison killed in one season, how many partners were defrauded by Basilus, how many wards corrupted by Hirrus, how many lovers tall Maura wears out in a single season; I could sooner run over the number of villas now belonging to the barber under whose razor my stiff youthful beard used to grate. One suffers in the shoulder, another in the loins, a third in the hip; another has lost both eyes, and envies those who have one; another takes food into his pallid lips from someone else’s fingers, while he whose jaws used to fly open at the sight of his dinner, now only gapes like the young of a swallow whose fasting mother flies to him with well-laden beak. But worse than any loss of limb is the failing mind which forgets the names of slaves, and cannot recognise the face of the old friend who dined with him last night, nor those of the children whom he has begotten and brought up. For by a cruel will he cuts off his own flesh and blood and leaves all his estate to Phiale — so potent was the breath of that alluring mouth which had plied its trade for so many years in her narrow archway.
ut uigeant sensus animi, ducenda tamen sunt 240
funera natorum, rogus aspiciendus amatae
coniugis et fratris plenaeque sororibus urnae.
haec data poena diu uiuentibus, ut renouata
semper clade domus multis in luctibus inque
perpetuo maerore et nigra ueste senescant. 245
rex Pylius, magno si quicquam credis Homero,
exemplum uitae fuit a cornice secundae.
felix nimirum, qui tot per saecula mortem
distulit atque suos iam dextra conputat annos,
quique nouum totiens mustum bibit. oro parumper 250
attendas quantum de legibus ipse queratur
fatorum et nimio de stamine, cum uidet acris
Antilochi barbam ardentem, cum quaerit ab omni,
quisquis adest, socio cur haec in tempora duret,
quod facinus dignum tam longo admiserit aeuo. 255
haec eadem Peleus, raptum cum luget Achillem,
atque alius, cui fas Ithacum lugere natantem.
incolumi Troia Priamus uenisset ad umbras
Assaraci magnis sollemnibus Hectore funus
portante ac reliquis fratrum ceruicibus inter 260
Iliadum lacrimas, ut primos edere planctus
Cassandra inciperet scissaque Polyxena palla,
si foret extinctus diuerso tempore, quo non
coeperat audaces Paris aedificare carinas.
longa dies igitur quid contulit? omnia uidit 265
euersa et flammis Asiam ferroque cadentem.
tunc miles tremulus posita tulit arma tiara
et ruit ante aram summi Iouis ut uetulus bos,
qui domini cultris tenue et miserabile collum
praebet ab ingrato iam fastiditus aratro. 270
exitus ille utcumque hominis, sed torua canino
latrauit rictu quae post hunc uixerat uxor.
[240] And though the powers of his mind be strong as ever, yet must he carry forth his sons to burial; he must behold the funeral pyres of his beloved wife and his brothers, and urns filled with the ashes of his sisters. Such are the penalties of the long liver: he sees calamity after calamity befall his house, he lives in a world of sorrow, he grows old amid continual lamentation and in the garb of woe. If we can believe mighty Homer, the King of Pylos was an example of long life second only to the crow; happy forsooth in this that he had put off death for so many generations, and had so often quaffed the new-made wine, counting now his years upon his right hand. But mark for a moment, I beg, how he bewails the decrees of fate and his too-long thread of life, when he beholds the beard of his brave Antilochus in the flames, and asks of every friend around him why he has lived so long, what crime he has committed to deserve such length of days. Thus did Peleus also mourn when he lost Achilles; and so that other father who had to bewail the sea-roving Ithacan. Had Priam perished at some other time, before Paris began to build his audacious ships, he would have gone down to the shade of Assaracus when Troy was still standing, and with regal pomp; his body would have been borne on the shoulders ot Hector and his brothers amid the tears of Ilion’s daughters, and the rending of Polyxena’s garments: Cassandra would have led the cries of woe. What boon did length of days bring to him? He saw everything in ruins, and Asia perishing by fire and the sword. Laying aside his tiara, and arming himself, he fell, a trembling soldier, before the altar of Almighty Jove, like an aged ox discarded by the thankless plough who offers his poor lean neck to his master’s knife. Priam’s death was at least that of a human being; but his wife lived on to open her mouth with the savage barking of a dog.
festino ad nostros et regem transeo Ponti
et Croesum, quem uox iusti facunda Solonis
respicere ad longae iussit spatia ultima uitae. 275
exilium et carcer Minturnarumque paludes
et mendicatus uicta Carthagine panis
hinc causas habuere; quid illo ciue tulisset
natura in terris, quid Roma beatius umquam,
si circumducto captiuorum agmine et omni 280
bellorum pompa animam exhalasset opimam,
cum de Teutonico uellet descendere curru?
prouida Pompeio dederat Campania febres
optandas, sed multae urbes et publica uota
uicerunt; igitur Fortuna ipsius et urbis 285
seruatum uicto caput abstulit. hoc cruciatu
Lentulus, hac poena caruit ceciditque Cethegus
integer et iacuit Catilina cadauere toto.
[273] I hasten to our own countrymen, passing by the king of Pontus and Croesus, who was bidden by the wise and eloquent Solon to look to the last lap of a long life. It was this that brought Marius to exile and to prison, it took him to the swamps of Minturnae and made him beg his bread in the Carthage that he had conquered. What could Nature ever in all the world have produced more glorious than him, if after parading his troops of captives with all the pomp of war he had breathed forth his soul in glory as he was about to step down from his Teutonic car? Kindly Campania gave to Pompey a fever, which he might have prayed for as a boon; but the public prayers of all those cities gained the day; so his own fortune and that of Rome preserved him to be vanquished and to lose his head. No such cruel thing befell Lentulus; Cethegus escaped such punishment and fell whole; and Catiline’s corpse lay unviolated.
formam optat modico pueris, maiore puellis
murmure, cum Veneris fanum uidet, anxia mater 290
usque ad delicias uotorum. ‘cur tamen’ inquit
‘corripias? pulchra gaudet Latona Diana.’
sed uetat optari faciem Lucretia qualem
ipsa habuit, cuperet Rutilae Verginia gibbum
accipere +atque suum+ Rutilae dare. filius autem 295
corporis egregii miseros trepidosque parentes
semper habet: rara est adeo concordia formae
atque pudicitiae. sanctos licet horrida mores
tradiderit domus ac ueteres imitata Sabinos,
praeterea castum ingenium uoltumque modesto 300
sanguine feruentem tribuat natura benigna
larga manu (quid enim puero conferre potest plus
custode et cura natura potentior omni?),
non licet esse uiro; nam prodiga corruptoris
improbitas ipsos audet temptare parentes: 305
tanta
in muneribus fiducia. nullus ephebum
deformem saeua castrauit in arce tyrannus,
nec praetextatum rapuit Nero loripedem nec
strumosum atque utero pariter gibboque tumentem.
[289] When the loving mother passes the temple of Venus, she prays in whispered breath for her boys — more loudly, and entering into the most trifling particulars, for her daughters — that they may have beauty. “And why should I not?” she asks; “did not Latona rejoice in Diana’s beauty?” Yes: but Lucretia forbids us to pray for a face like her own; and Verginia would gladly take Rutila’s hump and give her own fair form to Rutila. A handsome son keeps his parents in constant fear and misery; so rarely do modesty and good looks go together. For though his home be strict, and have taught him ways as pure as those of the ancient Sabines, and though Nature besides with kindly hand have lavishly gifted him with a pure mind and a cheek mantling with modest blood — and what better thing can Nature, more careful, more potent than any guardian, bestow upon a youth? — he will not be allowed to become a man. The lavish wickedness of some seducer will tempt the boy’s own parents: such trust can be placed in money! No misshapen youth was ever unsexed by cruel tyrant in his castle; never did Nero have a bandy-legged or scrofulous favourite, or one that was hump-backed or pot-bellied!
i nunc et iuuenis specie laetare tui, quem 310
maiora expectant discrimina. fiet adulter
publicus et poenas metuet quascumque mariti
+irati+ debet, nec erit felicior astro
Martis, ut in laqueos numquam incidat. exigit autem
interdum ille dolor plus quam lex ulla dolori 315
concessit: necat hic ferro, secat ille cruentis
uerberibus, quosdam moechos et mugilis intrat.
sed tuus Endymion dilectae fiet adulter
matronae. mox cum dederit Seruilia nummos
fiet et illius quam non amat, exuet omnem 320
corporis ornatum; quid enim ulla negauerit udis
inguinibus, siue est haec Oppia siue Catulla?
deterior totos habet illic femina mores.
‘sed casto quid forma nocet?’ quid profuit immo
Hippolyto graue propositum, quid Bellerophonti? 325
Delphi Complete Works of Juvena Page 41