Martial: EPIGRAMMATON LIBRI

Si nimius videor seraque coronide longus
Esse liber, legito pauca: libellus ero.
Terque quaterque mihi finitur carmine parvo
Pagina: fac tibi me quam cupis ipse brevem.

If I seem excessive and long with a late coronis
to be a book, read a few: I shall be a booklet.
Thrice and four times my page is finished with a small poem:
make me for yourself as brief as you yourself desire.

Festinata prior, decimi mihi cura libelli
       Elapsum manibus nunc revocavit opus.
Nota leges quaedam, sed lima rasa recenti;
       Pars nova maior erit: lector, utrique fave,
Lector, opes nostrae: quem cum mihi Roma dedisset.                            5
       'Nil tibi quod demus maius habemus' ait.
'Pigra per hunc fugies ingratae flumina Lethes
       Et meliore tui parte superstes eris.

The former was hastened; the care of my tenth little book
       has now called back the work that slipped from my hands.
You will read certain familiar laws, but scraped with a recent file;
       a new part will be the greater: reader, favor both,
Reader, our wealth: when Rome had given you to me.                            5
       'We have nothing greater that we might give you,' she said.
'Through him you will flee the sluggish streams of ungrateful Lethe
       and you will survive in the better part of yourself.

Marmora Messallae findit caprificus, et audax
Dimidios Crispi mulio ridet equos: 10
At chartis nec furta nocent et saecula prosunt,
Solaque non norunt haec monumenta mori.'

The wild caper-fig splits Messalla’s marbles, and the bold
muleteer laughs at Crispus’s halved horses: 10
But for pages neither thefts do harm, and ages are of profit,
and these monuments alone do not know how to die.'

III

Vernaculorum dicta, sordidum dentem,
Et foeda linguae probra circulatricis,
Quae sulphurato nolit empta ramento
Vatiniorum proxeneta fractorum,
Poeta quidam clancularius spargit 5
Et volt videri nostra. Credis hoc, Prisce?
Voce ut loquatur psittacus coturnicis
Et concupiscat esse Canus ascaules?

The vernaculars’ sayings, a sordid tooth,
and the foul reproaches of a gossip‑mongering tongue,
which not even for a sulfurated shaving would the procurer
of broken Vatinii want to buy,
a certain clandestine poet scatters, 5
and wants them to seem ours. Do you believe this, Priscus?
That a parrot should speak with the voice of a quail,
and that Canus should long to be a bagpiper?

Procul a libellis nigra sit meis fama,
Quos rumor alba gemmeus vehit pinna: 10
Cur ego laborem notus esse tam prave,
Constare gratis cum silentium possit?

Far from my little books let there be black fame,
which jeweled rumor carries on a white wing: 10
Why should I labor to be known so perversely,
when silence can be had gratis?

Qui legis Oedipoden caligantemque Thyesten,
Colchidas et Scyllas, quid nisi monstra legis?
Quid tibi raptus Hylas, quid Parthenopaeus et Attis,
Quid tibi dormitor proderit Endymion?
Exutusve puer pinnis labentibus?

You who read Oedipus and Thyestes stumbling in darkness,
Colchian women and Scyllas, what but monsters are you reading?
What is abducted Hylas to you, what Parthenopaeus and Attis,
What will the sleeper Endymion profit you?
Or the boy stripped of his slipping wings?

aut qui                            5
       Odit amatrices Hermaphroditus aquas?
Quid te vana iuvant miserae ludibria chartae?
       Hoc lege, quod possit dicere vita 'Meum est.'
Non hic Centauros, non Gorgonas Harpyiasque
       Invenies: hominem pagina nostra sapit.                            10
Sed non vis, Mamurra, tuos cognoscere mores
       Nec te scire: legas Aetia Callimachi.

or who                            5
       does Hermaphroditus hate the amorous waters?
What use to you are the vain mockeries of wretched paper?
       Read this, which life can say, 'It is mine.'
Here you will find neither Centaurs, nor Gorgons and Harpies:
       our page savors of the human being.                            10
But you do not wish, Mamurra, to know your own mores,
       nor to know yourself: go read the Aetia of Callimachus.

Quisquis stolaeve purpuraeve contemptor
Quos colere debet, laesit impio versu,
Erret per urbem pontis exul et clivi,
Interque raucos ultimus rogatores
Oret caninas panis inprobi buccas;                            5
Illi December longus et madens bruma
Clususque fornix triste frigus extendat:
Vocet beatos clamitetque felices,
Orciniana qui feruntur in sponda.
At cum supremae fila venerint horae                            10
Diesque tardus, sentiat canum litem
Abigatque moto noxias aves panno.
Nec finiantur morte supplicis poenae,
Sed modo severi sectus Aeaci loris,
Nunc inquieti monte Sisyphi pressus,                            15

Whoever, a despiser of the stole and the purple,
has harmed with impious verse those whom he ought to honor,
let him wander through the city, an exile from bridge and slope,
and, last among the hoarse petitioners,
let him beg canine mouthfuls of shameless bread;                            5
For him let December be long and winter soaking-wet,
and the shut archway stretch out a dreary cold:
let him call the blessed and shout the happy,
they who are borne on the Orcinian couch.
But when the threads of the last hour shall have come                            10
and the day is tardy, let him feel the quarrel of dogs
and drive off with a shaken cloth the noxious birds.
Nor let the penalties of the suppliant be ended by death,
but now be cut by the lashes of stern Aeacus,
now be pressed by the mountain of restless Sisyphus,                            15

Nunc inter undas garruli senis siccus
Delasset omnis fabulas poetarum:
Et cum fateri Furia iusserit verum,
Prodente clamet conscientia 'Scripsi.'

Now, dry amid the waves of the garrulous old man,
let him exhaust all the fables of the poets:
and when a Fury has ordered him to confess the truth,
with conscience betraying him, let him cry out 'I wrote.'

Felices, quibus urna dedit spectare coruscum
       Solibus Arctois sideribusque ducem.
Quando erit ille dies, quo campus et arbor et omnis
       Lucebit Latia culta fenestra nuru?
Quando morae dulces longusque a Caesare pulvis                            5
       Totaque Flaminia Roma videnda via?

Happy they to whom the urn granted to behold the coruscant
       leader beneath Arctic suns and stars.
When will that day be, on which the field and the tree and every
       window, adorned with a Latian bride, will shine?
When will the sweet delays and the long dust from Caesar,                            5
       and the whole Flaminian Way—Rome to be seen?

Quando eques et picti tunica Nilotide Mauri
Ibitis, et populi vox erit una 'Venit'?

When will the horseman and the Moors painted in a Nilotic tunic
go, and the people's voice be one, 'He has come'?

VII

Nympharum pater amniumque, Rhene,
Quicumque Odrysias bibunt pruinas,
Sic semper liquidis fruaris undis,
Nec te barbara contumeliosi
Calcatum rota conterat bubulci; 5
Sic et cornibus aureis receptis
Et Romanus eas utraque ripa:
Traianum populis suis et urbi,
Thybris te dominus rogat, remittas.

Father of nymphs and of rivers, Rhine,
all who drink the Odrysian frosts,
thus may you always enjoy liquid waves,
nor let the barbarian wheel of a contumelious oxherd
crush you underfoot; 5
thus too, with golden horns recovered,
and may the Roman go on either bank:
the Tiber, your lord, asks you to send back
Trajan to his peoples and to the city.

VIII

Nubere Paula cupit nobis, ego ducere Paulam
Nolo: anus est. Vellem, si magis esset anus.

Paula desires to wed me; I do not wish to take Paula as wife
no: she is an old woman. I would wish it, if she were more of an old woman.

Undenis pedibusque syllabisque
Et multo sale nec tamen protervo
Notus gentibus ille Martialis
Et notus populis — quid invidetis? —
Non sum Andraemone notior caballo.

With eleven feet and syllables
and with much salt yet not however insolent
that Martial is known to the nations
and known to the peoples — why do you envy? —
I am not better known than Andraemon’s horse.

Cum tu, laurigeris annum qui fascibus intras,
       Mane salutator limina mille teras,
Hic ego quid faciam? quid nobis, Paule, relinquis,
       Qui de plebe Numae densaque turba sumus?
Qui me respiciet, dominum regemque vocabo?                            5
       Hoc tu — sed quanto blandius!

When you, who enter upon the year with laurel-bearing fasces,
       in the morning, as a salutator, wear down a thousand thresholds,
Here what am I to do? what do you, Paul, leave to us,
       who are of Numa’s plebs and the dense crowd?
Who will look back at me? shall I call him lord and king?                            5
       This for you — but how much more flatteringly!

— ipse facis.
Lecticam sellamve sequar? nec ferre recusas,
Per medium pugnas et prior ire lutum.

— you yourself do it.
Shall I follow the litter or the sedan-chair? nor do you refuse to carry it,
you fight to go first through the middle of the mud.

Saepius adsurgam recitanti carmina? tu stas
Et pariter geminas tendis in ora manus. 10
Quid faciet pauper, cui non licet esse clienti?
Dimisit nostras purpura vestra togas.

Shall I more often rise for one reciting poems? you stand
and at the same time stretch both hands to your mouth. 10
What is the poor man to do, to whom it is not permitted to be a client?
Your purple has dismissed our togas.

Nil aliud loqueris, quam Thesea Pirithoumque,
       Teque putas Pyladi, Calliodore, parem.
Dispeream, si tu Pyladi praestare matellam
       Dignus es aut porcos pascere Pirithoi.
'Donavi tamen' inquis 'amico milia quinque                            5
       Et lotam, ut multum, terve quaterve togam.'
Quid, quod nil unquam Pyladi donavit Orestes?

You talk of nothing else than Theseus and Pirithous,
       and you think yourself, Calliodorus, a peer of Pylades.
May I perish if you are worthy to hand Pylades the chamber-pot,
       or to feed the pigs of Pirithous.
'Yet I have donated,' you say, 'to a friend 5,000                            5
       and, what is much, a toga washed three or four times.'
What of the fact that Orestes never donated anything to Pylades?

Qui donat quamvis plurima, plura negat.

He who donates however many, denies more.

XII

Aemiliae gentes et Apollineas Vercellas
       Et Phaethontei qui petis arva Padi,
Ne vivam, nisi te, Domiti, dimitto libenter,
       Grata licet sine te sit mihi nulla dies:
Sed desiderium tanti est, ut messe vel una                            5
       Urbano releves colla perusta iugo.
I precor et totos avida cute combibe soles, —
       O quam formosus, dum peregrinus eris!
Et venies albis non cognoscendus amicis
       Livebitque tuis pallida turba genis.                            10
Sed via quem dederit, rapiet cito Roma colorem,
       Niliaco redeas tu licet ore niger.

The Aemilian peoples and Apolline Vercellae,
       and you who seek the fields of the Phaethontean Po,
May I not live, unless I send you off gladly, Domitius,
       though without you no day is welcome to me:
But my longing is so great, that with even one harvest                            5
       you may relieve your neck, scorched by the Urban yoke.
Go, I pray, and with eager skin imbibe the entire suns,—
       O how handsome you will be, while you are a traveler abroad!
And you will return, not to be recognized by your pale friends,
       and the pallid crowd will be livid at your cheeks.                            10
But the color which the road will have given, Rome will quickly snatch away,
       even if you return black with a Nilotic face.

XIII

Ducit ad auriferas quod me Salo Celtiber oras,
       Pendula quod patriae visere tecta libet,
Tu mihi simplicibus, Mani, dilectus ab annis
       Et praetextata cultus amicitia,
Tu facis; in terris quo non est alter Hiberis                            5
       Dulcior et vero dignus amore magis.
Tecum ego vel sicci Gaetula mapalia Poeni
       Et poteram Scythicas hospes amare casas.
Si tibi mens eadem, si nostri mutua cura est,
       In quocumque loco Roma duobus erit.

That the Salo leads me to the auriferous Celtiberian shores,
       that it pleases me to visit the overhanging roofs of my fatherland,
you, Manius, beloved to me from my simple years
       and cherished by a praetexta-clad friendship,
you bring it about; in the Iberian lands there is no other                            5
       sweeter and more truly worthy of love.
With you I could even love the parched Gaetulian mapalia of the Punic folk,
       and as a guest the Scythian huts as well.
If your mind is the same, if there is mutual care for us,
       in whatever place, Rome will be for the two of us.

XIV

Cum cathedrata litos portet tibi raeda ministros
       Et Libys in longo pulvere sudet eques,
Strataque non unas cingant triclinia Baias
       Et Thetis unguento palleat uncta tuo,
Candida Setini rumpant crystalla trientes,                            5
       Dormiat in pluma nec meliore Venus:
Ad nocturna iaces fastosae limina moechae,
       Et madet, heu, lacrimis ianua surda tuis,
Urere nec miserum cessant suspiria pectus.
       Vis dicam, male sit cur tibi, Cotta? bene est.

When a chair-fitted carriage carries your attendants to the shores,
       and a Libyan horseman sweats in the long dust,
and couches gird dining rooms not just one at Baiae,
       and Thetis, anointed with your unguent, grows pale,
may shining crystals be burst by third-pint cups of Setine,                            5
       and let Venus sleep upon down, nor upon a better:
you lie at the nightly threshold of a haughty adulteress,
       and, alas, the deaf door is wet with your tears,
nor do your sighs cease to scorch your wretched breast.
       Do you wish I tell why it goes ill for you, Cotta? It goes well.

Cedere de nostris nulli te dicis amicis.
Sed, sit ut hoc verum, quid, rogo, Crispe, facis?
Mutua cum peterem sestertia quinque, negasti,
Non caperet nummos cum gravis arca tuos.

You say you yield to none among our friends.
But even if this is true, what, I ask, Crispus, are you doing?
When I asked for a loan of five thousand sesterces, you refused,
although your heavy coffer could not hold your coins.

Quando fabae nobis modium farrisve dedisti,                            5
       Cum tua Niliacus rura colonus aret?
Quando brevis gelidae missa est toga tempore brumae?
       Argenti venit quando selibra mihi?

When did you give us a modius of beans or of spelt,                            5
       while your Nilotic tenant-farmer ploughs your fields?
When was a short toga sent in the time of gelid midwinter?
       When did a half‑pound of silver come to me?

Nil aliud video, quo te credamus amicum,
Quam quod me coram pedere, Crispe, soles.

I see nothing else by which we might believe you a friend,
than that you are wont, Crispus, to fart in my presence.

XVI

Dotatae uxori cor harundine fixit acuta,
Sed dum ludit Aper: ludere novit Aper.

He pierced his dowered wife's heart with a sharp reed,
But while Aper plays: Aper knows how to play.

XVII

Si donare vocas promittere nec dare, Gai,
       Vincam te donis muneribusque meis.
Accipe Callaicis quidquid fodit Astur in arvis,
       Aurea quidquid habet divitis unda Tagi,
Quidquid Erythraea niger invenit Indus in alga,                            5
       Quidquid et in nidis unica servat avis,
Quidquid Agenoreo Tyros inproba cogit aheno:
       Quidquid habent omnes, accipe, quomodo das.

If you call “to donate” to promise and not to give, Gaius,
       I will surpass you with my gifts and presents.
Receive whatever the Astur digs in Galician fields,
       whatever gold the rich wave of the Tagus holds,
whatever the black Indian finds in the Erythraean seaweed,                            5
       and whatever the unique bird stores in its nests,
whatever shameless Tyre forces in the Agenorean bronze cauldron:
       Whatever all possess, receive, in the way that you give.

XVIII

Saturnalicio Macrum fraudare tributo
       Frustra, Musa, cupis: non licet: ipse petit;
Sollemnesque iocos nec tristia carmina poscit,
       Et queritur nugas obticuisse meas.
Mensorum longis sed nunc vacat ille libellis.                            5
       Appia, quid facies, si legit ista Macer?

To defraud Macer of the Saturnalian tribute
       In vain, Muse, you desire: it is not permitted: he himself demands it;
And he asks for the solemn jests and not sad songs,
       And complains that my trifles have fallen silent.
But now he has leisure from the surveyors’ long booklets.                            5
       Appia, what will you do, if Macer reads these?

XIX

Nec vocat ad cenam Marius, nec munera mittit,
Nec spondet, nec volt credere, sed nec habet.
Turba tamen non deest, sterilem quae curet amicum.
Eheu!

Nor does Marius invite to dinner, nor does he send gifts,
Nor does he promise, nor does he wish to give credit, but neither does he have it.
Yet a crowd is not lacking to court a barren friend.
Alas!

quam fatuae sunt tibi, Roma, togae!

How fatuous for you, Rome, are the togas!

Nec doctum satis et parum severum,
Sed non rusticulum tamen libellum
Facundo mea Plinio Thalia
I perfer: brevis est labor peractae
Altum vincere tramitem Suburae.                            5
Illic Orphea protinus videbis
Udi vertice lubricum theatri
Mirantisque feras avemque regis,
Raptum quae Phryga pertulit Tonanti;
Illic parva tui domus Pedonis                            10
Caelata est aquilae minore pinna.
Sed ne tempore non tuo disertam
Pulses ebria ianuam, videto:
Totos dat tetricae dies Minervae,
Dum centum studet auribus virorum                            15

Not sufficiently learned and a bit unsevere,
yet not rustic, however, my little book—
to eloquent Pliny my Thalia,
go, carry it: brief is the task—to conquer
the lofty track of the Subura.                            5
There you will at once see Orpheus
slippery on the summit of the dank theater,
and the beasts marveling, and the king’s bird,
who bore the snatched Phrygian to the Thunderer;
there the small house of your Pedo                            10
is chased with the lesser feather of the eagle.
But see that you, drunk, do not at a time not yours
knock at the eloquent one’s door:
he gives whole days to austere Minerva,
while he attends to the ears of a hundred men.                            15

Hoc quod saecula posterique possint
Arpinis quoque conparare chartis.
Seras tutior ibis ad lucernas:
Haec hora est tua, cum furit Lyaeus,
Cum regnat rosa, cum madent capilli: 20
Tunc me vel rigidi legant Catones.

This which ages and posterity may be able to compare even with Arpinate pages.
You will go safer late, at the lamps:
this is your hour, when Lyaeus rages,
when the rose reigns, when the hair is wet; 20
then let even the rigid Catos read me.

XXI

Scribere te quae vix intellegat ipse Modestus
       Et vix Claranus, quid rogo, Sexte, iuvat?
Non lectore tuis opus est, sed Apolline libris:
       Iudice te maior Cinna Marone fuit.
Sic tua laudentur sane: mea carmina, Sexte,                            5
       Grammaticis placeant, ut sine grammaticis.

To write things that hardly Modestus himself understands,
       and hardly Claranus—what, I ask, Sextus, does it avail?
Your books have no need of a reader, but of Apollo:
       with you as judge, Cinna was greater than Maro.
Thus let yours be praised, by all means: my songs, Sextus,                            5
       let them please grammarians, just as without grammarians.

XXII

Cur spleniato saepe prodeam mento
Albave pictus sana labra cerussa,
Philaeni, quaeris? basiare te nolo.

Why I often go forth with a spleen-salved chin
and my sound lips painted with white ceruse,
Philaeni, do you ask? I do not want to kiss you.

XXIII

Iam numerat placido felix Antonius aevo
       Quindecies actas Primus Olympiadas
Praeteritosque dies et tutos respicit annos
       Nec metuit Lethes iam propioris aquas.
Nulla recordanti lux est ingrata gravisque;                            5
       Nulla fuit, cuius non meminisse velit.
Ampliat aetatis spatium sibi vir bonus: hoc est
       Vivere bis, vita posse priore frui.

Now happy Antonius counts, in a placid age,
       fifteen Olympiads completed, Antonius Primus;
and he looks back on the days gone by and the safe years,
       nor does he fear the waters of Lethe now closer.
For him remembering, no day is ingrate or grievous;                            5
       there was none which he would not wish to remember.
The good man amplifies the span of his lifetime for himself: this is
       to live twice, to be able to enjoy one’s prior life.

XXIV

Natales mihi Martiae Kalendae,
Lux formosior omnibus Kalendis,
Qua mittunt mihi munus et puellae,
Quinquagensima liba septimamque
Vestris addimus hanc focis acerram. 5
His vos, si tamen expedit roganti,
Annos addite bis precor novenos,
Ut nondum nimia piger senecta,
Sed vitae tribus areis peractis
Lucos Elysiae petam puellae. 10
Post hunc Nestora nec diem rogabo.

The March Kalends are my birthday,
a day lovelier than all the Kalends,
on which even the girls send me a gift;
the fiftieth liba-cakes and the seventh
incense-casket we add to your hearths. 5
To these, if it does indeed suit the one asking,
add, I pray, twice nine years,
so that, not yet sluggish with too-great old age,
but with the three eras of life completed,
I may seek the groves of my Elysian girl. 10
After this day I will not ask for Nestor.

XXV

In matutina nuper spectatus harena
       Mucius, inposuit qui sua membra focis,
Si patiens durusque tibi fortisque videtur,
       Abderitanae pectora plebis habes.
Nam cum dicatur tunica praesente molesta                            5
       'Ure manum,' plus est dicere 'Non facio.'

Recently in the morning arena was beheld
       Mucius, who set his own limbs on the hearths;
If he seems to you patient, hard, and brave,
       you have the hearts of the Abderitan plebs.
For when, with the troublesome tunic present,                            5
       'Burn the hand,' to say 'I do not do it' is the greater thing.

XXVI

Vare, Paraetonias Latia modo vite per urbes
       Nobilis et centum dux memorande viris,
At nunc Ausonio frustra promisse Quirino,
       Hospita Lagei litoris umbra iaces.
Spargere non licuit frigentia fletibus ora,                            5
       Pinguia nec maestis addere tura rogis.
Sed datur aeterno victurum carmine nomen:
       Numquid et hoc, fallax Nile, negare potes?

Varus, lately noble with the Latin vine-staff through the Paraetonian cities,
       you leader of a hundred men, a man to be remembered;
But now, having promised in vain to Ausonian Quirinus,
       you lie as a guest-shadow on the Lagean shore.
It was not permitted to sprinkle with tears your face growing cold,                            5
       nor to add rich incense to the mournful pyres.
But a name is given that will live by an eternal song:
       deceitful Nile, can you deny even this?

XXVII

Natali, Diodore, tuo conviva senatus
Accubat, et rarus non adhibetur eques,
Et tua tricenos largitur sportula nummos.
Nemo tamen natum te, Diodore, putat.

On your birthday, Diodorus, the Senate as dinner-guest reclines,
and seldom is a knight not invited,
and your sportula lavishes thirty coins.
Yet no one thinks you are freeborn, Diodorus.

XXVIII

Annorum nitidique sator pulcherrime mundi,
       Publica quem primum vota precesque vocant,
Pervius exiguos habitabas ante penates,
       Plurima qua medium Roma terebat iter:
Nunc tua Caesareis cinguntur limina donis,                            5
       Et fora tot numeras, Iane, quot ora geris.
At tu, sancte pater, tanto pro munere gratus,
       Ferrea perpetua claustra tuere sera.

Most beautiful begetter of the years and of the shining world,
       whom the public vows and prayers call first,
being passable, you once dwelt before humble Penates,
       where Rome wore many a path through the middle:
now your thresholds are girded with Caesarean gifts,                            5
       and you count, Janus, as many fora as you bear mouths.
But you, holy father, grateful for so great a gift,
       guard the iron barriers with an everlasting bolt.

XXIX

Quam mihi mittebas Saturni tempore lancem,
       Misisti dominae, Sextiliane, tuae;
Et quam donabas dictis a Marte Kalendis,
       De nostra prasina est synthesis empta toga.
Iam constare tibi gratis coepere puellae:                            5
       Muneribus futuis, Sextiliane, meis.

The platter which you used to send me at the season of Saturn,
       you have sent to your mistress, Sextilianus;
and what you used to present on the Kalends named from Mars,
       a synthesis has been bought out of our prasine‑green toga.
Now girls have begun to cost you nothing:                            5
       by my gifts you fuck, Sextilianus.

XXX

O temperatae dulce Formiae litus,
Vos, cum severi fugit oppidum Martis
Et inquietas fessus exuit curas,
Apollinaris omnibus locis praefert.
Non ille sanctae dulce Tibur uxoris,                            5
Nec Tusculanos Algidosve secessus,
Praeneste nec sic Antiumque miratur;
Non blanda Circe Dardanisve Caieta
Desiderantur, nec Marica nec Liris,
Nec in Lucrina lota Salmacis vena.                            10
Hic summa leni stringitur Thetis vento;
Nec languet aequor, viva sed quies ponti
Pictam phaselon adiuvante fert aura,
Sicut puellae non amantis aestatem
Mota salubre purpura venit frigus.                            15

O temperate sweet shore of Formiae,
You, when he flees the town of stern Mars
and, weary, sheds his restless cares,
Apollinaris prefers before all places.
Not for him his chaste wife’s dear Tibur,                            5
nor the Tusculan or Algidan retreats,
nor does he admire Praeneste and Antium so;
not winsome Circe nor Dardanian Caieta
are longed for, nor Marica nor the Liris,
nor the Salmacis spring bathed in the Lucrine.                            10
Here Thetis on the surface is grazed by a gentle wind;
nor does the level sea languish, but the living calm of the deep,
with a helping breeze, carries the painted skiff,
just as for a girl not loving the summer
when her purple robe is stirred, a healthful coolness comes.                            15

Nec saeta longo quaerit in mari praedam,
Sed a cubili lectuloque iactatam
Spectatus alte lineam trahit piscis.
Si quando Nereus sentit Aeoli regnum,
Ridet procellas tuta de suo mensa: 20
Piscina rhombum pascit et lupos vernas,
Natat ad magistrum delicata muraena,
Nomenculator mugilem citat notum,
Et adesse iussi prodeunt senes mulli.
Frui sed istis quando Roma permittit? 25
Quot Formianos inputat dies annus
Negotiosis rebus urbis haerenti?

Nor does a hair-line seek its prey in the open sea,
But, cast from bed and little couch,
The fish, seen from on high, draws the line.
If ever Nereus feels the realm of Aeolus,
The table, safe on its own resources, laughs at the storms: 20
The fish-pond feeds turbot and home-bred sea-bass,
A dainty moray swims to its master,
The nomenclator summons the familiar mullet,
And, ordered to be present, the old mullets come forth.
But when does Rome permit one to enjoy these things? 25
How many Formian days does the year credit
To one clinging to the busy affairs of the city?

O ianitores vilicique felices!
Dominis parantur ista, serviunt vobis.

O janitors and stewards, fortunate ones!
These things are prepared for the masters; they serve you.

XXXI

Addixti servum nummis here mille ducentis,
       Ut bene cenares, Calliodore, semel.
Nec bene cenasti: mullus tibi quattuor emptus
       Librarum cenae pompa caputque fuit.
Exclamare libet: 'Non est hic, inprobe, non est                            5
       Piscis: homo est; hominem, Calliodore, comes.'

You knocked down a slave for 1,200 sesterces yesterday,
       so that you might dine well once, Calliodorus.
Nor did you dine well: a mullet bought of four pounds
       was the pomp and head of the dinner.
I feel like crying out: 'This, shameless man, is not, is not                            5
       a fish: it is a man; a man, Calliodorus, companion.'

XXXII

Haec mihi quae colitur violis pictura rosisque,
       Quos referat voltus, Caediciane, rogas?
Talis erat Marcus mediis Antonius annis
       Primus: in hoc iuvenem se videt ore senex.
Ars utinam mores animumque effingere posset!                            5
       Pulchrior in terris nulla tabella foret.

This picture of mine, which is adorned with violets and roses,
       you ask, Caedicianus, whose features it reproduces?
Such was Marcus Antonius Primus in his middle years;
       in this face the old man sees himself as a youth.
Would that Art could portray character and spirit!                            5
       No tablet on earth would be more beautiful.

XXXIII

Simplicior priscis, Munati Galle, Sabinis,
       Cecropium superas qui bonitate senem,
Sic tibi consoceri claros retinere penates
       Perpetua natae det face casta Venus:
Ut tu, si viridi tinctos aerugine versus                            5
       Forte malus livor dixerit esse meos,
Ut facis, a nobis abigas, nec scribere quemquam
       Talia contendas carmina, qui legitur.
Hunc servare modum nostri novere libelli,
       Parcere personis, dicere de vitiis.

More simple than the ancient Sabines, Munatius Gallus,
       you who by your goodness surpass the Cecropian old man,
So may chaste Venus grant you to retain the illustrious household gods of your father-in-law
       by the perpetual torch of your daughter:
As you, if malicious Envy should say that my verses are dyed with green verdigris                            5
       drive it away from us, as you do, and maintain that no one
who is read writes such songs.
       Our little books know to keep this measure:
to spare persons, to speak of vices.

XXXIV

Di tibi dent quidquid, Caesar Traiane, mereris
       Et rata perpetuo quae tribuere velint:
Qui sua restituis spoliato iura patrono
        — Libertis exul non erit ille suis — ,
Dignus es, ut possis totum servare clientem:                            5
       Ut — liceat tantum vera probare — potes.

May the gods grant to you whatever, Caesar Trajan, you merit,
       and ratified perpetually what they may wish to bestow:
you who restore his own rights to a despoiled patron
       — he will not be an exile from his own freedmen — ,
you are worthy, so that you can preserve the client whole;                            5
       so — if only it be permitted to approve what is true — you can.

XXXV

Omnes Sulpiciam legant puellae,
Uni quae cupiunt viro placere;
Omnes Sulpiciam legant mariti,
Uni qui cupiunt placere nuptae.
Non haec Colchidos adserit furorem 5
Diri prandia nec refert Thyestae;
Scyllam, Byblida nec fuisse credit:
Sed castos docet et probos amores,
Lusus, delicias facetiasque.
Cuius carmina qui bene aestimarit, 10
Nullam dixerit esse nequiorem,
Nullam dixerit esse sanctiorem.

Let all maidens read Sulpicia,
Who wish to please one man;
Let all husbands read Sulpicia,
Who wish to please one wedded wife.
She does not assert the frenzy of the Colchian, 5
Nor recount the dire banquets of Thyestes;
She does not believe that there were a Scylla or a Byblis:
But she teaches chaste and upright loves,
Play, delights, and witticisms.
Whoever shall have well judged her songs, 10
Will say that none is more wanton,
Will say that none is more holy.

Tales Egeriae iocos fuisse
Udo crediderim Numae sub antro.
Hac condiscipula vel hac magistra 15

I would believe such jests to have been Egeria’s,
beneath Numa’s dripping cave.
With her as fellow-pupil or with her as teacher 15

Esses doctior et pudica, Sappho:
Sed tecum pariter simulque visam
Durus Sulpiciam Phaon amaret.
Frustra: namque ea nec Tonantis uxor
Nec Bacchi nec Apollinis puella 20
Erepto sibi viveret Caleno.

You would be more learned and chaste, Sappho:
But were I seen together with you at the same time,
hard Phaon would love Sulpicia.
In vain: for she, not even as the Thunderer’s wife
nor Bacchus’s nor Apollo’s girl, 20
would live, if Calenus were snatched away from her.

XXXVI

Inproba Massiliae quidquid fumaria cogunt,
       Accipit aetatem quisquis ab igne cadus,
A te, Munna, venit: miseris tu mittis amicis
       Per freta, per longas toxica saeva vias;
Nec facili pretio, sed quo contenta Falerni                            5
       Testa sit aut cellis Setia cara suis.
Non venias quare tam longo tempore Romam,
       Haec puto causa tibi est, ne tua vina bibas.

Whatever the shameless smoke-rooms of Massilia force together,
       every cask that takes age from fire,
comes from you, Munna: you send to your wretched friends
       savage toxins across the straits, along long roads;
And not at an easy price, but at one with which a jar of Falernian                            5
       would be content, or Setia dear to its own cellars.
Why you do not come to Rome for so long a time,
       this, I think, is your reason: so that you may not drink your own wines.

XXXVII

Iuris et aequarum cultor sanctissime legum,
       Veridico Latium qui regis ore forum,
Municipi, Materne, tuo veterique sodali
       Callaicum mandas siquid ad Oceanum — .
An Laurentino turpis in litore ranas                            5
       Et satius tenues ducere credis acus,
Ad sua captivum quam saxa remittere mullum,
       Visus erit libris qui minor esse tribus?
Et fatuam summa cenare pelorida mensa
       Quosque tegit levi cortice concha brevis,                            10
Ostrea Baianis quam non liventia testis,
       Quae domino pueri non prohibente vorent?
Hic olidam clamosus ages in retia volpem
       Mordebitque tuos sordida praeda canes:
Illic piscoso modo vix educta profundo                            15

Most holy cultivator of right and of equitable laws,
       who with veridical mouth you rule the Latin forum,
To your townsman, Maternus, and old companion
       if you are commissioning anything to the Callaic Ocean— .
Or on the Laurentine shore ugly frogs                            5
       and do you think it better to draw slender needles (needlefish),
than to send the captive mullet back to its rocks,
       which will have seemed to be less than three pounds?
And to dine on the foolish pelorida at the top table
       and the brief shell that a light crust covers,                            10
rather than Baian oysters, not livid in their shells,
       which the boys devour, the master not forbidding?
Here, clamorous, you will drive a reeking fox into the nets
       and the filthy prey will bite your dogs:
There, just now scarcely drawn from the fishy deep                            15

       Inpedient lepores umida lina meos. —
Dum loquor, ecce redit sporta piscator inani,
       Venator capta maele superbus adest:
Omnis ab urbano venit ad mare cena macello.
       Callaicum mandas siquid ad Oceanum — .

       The wet nets will impede my hares. —
While I speak, look, the fisherman returns with an empty basket,
       the hunter arrives, proud with a poorly-won catch:
Every dinner comes from the city butcher’s shop to the sea.
       You send, if anything, to the Callaic Ocean — .

XXXVIII

O molles tibi quindecim, Calene,
Quos cum Sulpicia tua iugales
Indulsit deus et peregit annos!
O nox omnis et hora, quae notata est
Caris litoris Indici lapillis! 5
O quae proelia, quas utrimque pugnas
Felix lectulus et lucerna vidit
Nimbis ebria Nicerotianis!
Vixisti tribus, o Calene, lustris:
Aetas haec tibi tota conputatur 10
Et solos numeras dies mariti.

O gentle fifteen for you, Calenus,
which, with your Sulpicia, conjugal,
the god indulged and brought to completion!
O every night and hour that was marked
by the dear pebbles of the Indian shore! 5
O what battles, what fights on both sides
the happy little bed and the lamp saw,
drunk with Nicerotian clouds!
You have lived through three lustrums, O Calenus:
this whole age is reckoned to you 10
and you count only the days of a husband.

Ex illis tibi si diu rogatam
Lucem redderet Atropos vel unam,
Malles, quam Pyliam quater senectam.

From those, if Atropos, long besought, were to give back to you even a single day,
you would prefer it to Pylian old age four times over.

XXXIX

Consule te Bruto quod iuras, Lesbia, natam,
Mentiris. Nata es, Lesbia, rege Numa?
Sic quoque mentiris.

You swear, Lesbia, that you were born in the consulship of Brutus,
You lie. Were you born, Lesbia, under King Numa?
So too you lie.

Namque, ut tua saecula narrant,
Ficta Prometheo diceris esse luto.

For, as your era narrates,
you are said to have been fashioned from Promethean clay.

Semper cum mihi diceretur esse
Secreto mea Polla cum cinaedo,
Inrupi, Lupe. Non erat cinaedus.

Whenever it was being said to me that my Polla was in secret with a cinaedus,
I burst in, Lupus. He was not a cinaedus.

XLI

Mense novo Iani veterem, Proculeia, maritum
Deseris atque iubes res sibi habere suas.
Quid, rogo, quid factum est? subiti quae causa doloris?

In the new month of Janus, Proculeia, you desert your old husband
and you bid him to have his things to himself.
What, I ask, what has happened? What is the cause of the sudden grief?

       Nil mihi respondes? Dicam ego: praetor erat.
Constatura fuit Megalensis purpura centum                            5
       Milibus, ut nimium munera parca dares,
Et populare sacrum bis milia dena tulisset.

       You give me no answer? I will say it myself: he was a praetor.
The Megalesian purple was going to cost a hundred thousands,                            5
       so that you might provide the munera too sparingly,
and the popular sacred rite would have swallowed twice twenty thousands.

Discidium non est hoc, Proculeia: lucrum est.

This is not a divorce, Proculeia: it is a profit.

XLII

Tam dubia est lanugo tibi, tam mollis, ut illam
       Halitus et soles et levis aura terat.
Celantur simili ventura Cydonea lana,
       Pollice virgineo quae spoliata nitent.
Fortius inpressi quotiens tibi basia quinque,                            5
       Barbatus labris, Dindyme, fio tuis.

So doubtful is your down, so soft, that breath
       and suns and a light breeze wear it away.
Cydonian fruit-to-come is hidden by similar wool,
       which, stripped by a virgin thumb, shine.
Whenever I press upon you five kisses more strongly,                            5
       I become bearded at your lips, Dindymus.

XLIII

Septima iam, Phileros, tibi conditur uxor in agro.
Plus nulli, Phileros, quam tibi, reddit ager.

Already the seventh wife, Phileros, is interred in the field for you.
The field renders more to no one, Phileros, than to you.

XLIV

Quinte Caledonios Ovidi visure Britannos
       Et viridem Tethyn Oceanumque patrem,
Ergo Numae colles et Nomentana relinquis
       Otia, nec retinet rusque focusque senem?
Gaudia tu differs, at non et stamina differt                            5
       Atropos, atque omnis scribitur hora tibi.
Praestiteris caro — quis non hoc laudet?

Quintus, about to see the Caledonian Britons of Ovid,
       and green Tethys and father Ocean,
So then you leave the hills of Numa and Nomentan
       leisures, and neither countryside nor hearth holds the old man?
You defer joys, but Atropos does not also defer the threads,                            5
       and every hour is written down for you.
You will have done better for your dear self — who would not praise this?

— amico,
Ut potior vita sit tibi sancta fides;
Sed reddare tuis tandem mansure Sabinis
Teque tuas numeres inter amicitias.

— to a friend,
that sacred faith may be to you preferable to life;
But that you may at last be given back to your own Sabines to abide
and may count yourself among your friendships.

XLV

Si quid lene mei dicunt et dulce libelli,
       Si quid honorificum pagina blanda sonat,
Hoc tu pingue putas et costam rodere mavis,
       Ilia Laurentis cum tibi demus apri.
Vaticana bibas, si delectaris aceto:                            5
       Non facit ad stomachum nostra lagona tuum.

If my little books say anything smooth and sweet,
       if the blandishing page sounds anything honorific,
this you think “rich,” and you prefer to gnaw the rib,
       when we serve you the loins of the Laurentine boar.
Drink the Vatican (wines), if you take delight in vinegar:                            5
       our flagon does not agree with your stomach.

XLVI

Omnia vis belle, Matho, dicere. Dic aliquando
Et bene; dic neutrum; dic aliquando male.

You want to say everything nicely, Matho. Sometimes say
even well; say something neutral; sometimes say badly.

XLVII

Vitam quae faciant beatiorem,
Iucundissime Martialis, haec sunt:
Res non parta labore, sed relicta;
Non ingratus ager, focus perennis;
Lis numquam, toga rara, mens quieta; 5
Vires ingenuae, salubre corpus;
Prudens simplicitas, pares amici;
Convictus facilis, sine arte mensa;
Nox non ebria, sed soluta curis;
Non tristis torus, et tamen pudicus; 10
Somnus, qui faciat breves tenebras:
Quod sis, esse velis nihilque malis;
Summum nec metuas diem nec optes.

The things which make life more blessed,
Most delightful Martial, are these:
Resources not gotten by labor, but bequeathed;
a field not ungrateful, a perennial hearth;
No lawsuit ever, the toga rare, a quiet mind; 5
Native strength, a salubrious body;
Prudent simplicity, equal friends;
Easy companionship, a table without art;
A night not drunken, but released from cares;
A bed not sad, and yet chaste; 10
Sleep that makes the shadows brief;
That you should wish to be what you are and prefer nothing else;
And that you neither fear nor desire the last day.

XLVIII

Nuntiat octavam Phariae sua turba iuvencae,
       Et pilata redit iamque subitque cohors.
Temperat haec thermas, nimios prior hora vapores
       Halat, et inmodico sexta Nerone calet.
Stella, Nepos, Cani, Cerialis, Flacce, venitis?                            5
       Septem sigma capit, sex sumus, adde Lupum.

The crowd of the Pharian heifer announces the eighth hour,
       and the ball-playing cohort returns and now goes in.
This one tempers the baths; the previous hour breathes out excessive vapors,
       and at the sixth it is hot with an immoderate Nero.
Stella, Nepos, Cani, Cerialis, Flaccus, are you coming?                            5
       The sigma holds seven; we are six; add Lupus.

Exoneraturas ventrem mihi vilica malvas
       Adtulit et varias, quas habet hortus, opes,
In quibus est lactuca sedens et tonsile porrum,
       Nec deest ructatrix menta nec herba salax;                            10
Secta coronabunt rutatos ova lacertos,
       Et madidum thynni de sale sumen erit.
Gustus in his; una ponetur cenula mensa,
       Haedus, inhumani raptus ab ore lupi,
Et quae non egeant ferro structoris ofellae,                            15

The farm-mistress brought me mallows to unburden the belly,
       and the various bounties which the garden has,
among which are lettuce that settles and shorn leek,
       nor is belch-making mint lacking nor the salacious herb;                            10
sliced eggs will crown fillets rubbed with rue,
       and there will be the moist belly-cut of tunny from the brine.
The tasting-course is in these; a little supper will be set on a single table,
       a kid, snatched from the mouth of the inhuman wolf,
and tidbits that do not need the carver’s iron.                            15

       Et faba fabrorum prototomique rudes;
Pullus ad haec cenisque tribus iam perna superstes
       Addetur. Saturis mitia poma dabo,
De Nomentana vinum sine faece lagona,
       Quae bis Frontino consule trima fuit.                            20
Accedent sine felle ioci nec mane timenda
       Libertas et nil quod tacuisse velis:
De prasino conviva meus venetoque loquatur,
       Nec facient quemquam pocula nostra reum.

       And the beans of the craftsmen and the raw first-cut cabbages;
A chicken in addition to these, and a ham already surviving three dinners,
       Will be added. For the sated I will give mild fruits,
Wine without lees from a Nomentan flagon,
       Which was three years old when Frontinus was consul for the second time.                            20
There will be added jokes without gall and a freedom not to be feared
       In the morning, and nothing which you would wish to have kept silent:
Let my guest speak about the Green and the Blue,
       Nor will our cups make anyone a defendant.

XLIX

Cum potes amethystinos trientes
Et nigro madeas Opimiano,
Propinas modo conditum Sabinum
Et dicis mihi, Cotta, 'Vis in auro?'
Quisquam plumbea vina volt in auro?

When you can have amethystine trients
and be soaked with inky Opimian,
you serve only a seasoned Sabine
and say to me, Cotta, “Do you want it in gold?”
Does anyone want leaden wines in gold?

Frangat Idumaeas tristis Victoria palmas,
       Plange, Favor, saeva pectora nuda manu;
Mutet Honor cultus, et iniquis munera flammis
       Mitte coronatas, Gloria maesta, comas.
Heu facinus! prima fraudatus, Scorpe, iuventa                            5
       Occidis et nigros tam cito iungis equos.

Let sad Victory break the Idumaean palms,
       Beat, Favor, your savage breast with a bare hand;
Let Honor change his attire, and to iniquitous flames
       Send, mournful Glory, your garlanded tresses.
Alas—what an outrage! Cheated, Scorpus, of your earliest youth                            5
       you die and so quickly yoke the black horses.

Curribus illa tuis semper properata brevisque
Cur fuit et vitae tam prope meta tuae?

Why was that turning-post of your chariots always hastened and brief,
and why was the turning-post of your life so near?

Sidera iam Tyrius Phrixei respicit agni
       Taurus, et alternum Castora fugit hiems;
Ridet ager, vestitur humus, vestitur et arbor,
       Ismarium paelex Attica plorat Ityn.
Quos, Faustine, dies, qualem tibi Roma Ravennam                            5
       Abstulit! o soles, o tunicata quies!

Now the Tyrian Bull looks back at the stars of the Phrixean ram,
       and winter, in alternation, flees the Castors;
the field laughs, the ground is clothed, and the tree is clothed as well,
       the Attic mistress laments Ismarian Itys.
What days, Faustinus, what a Ravenna Rome has taken from you!                            5
       O suns, O tunic-clad repose!

O nemus, o fontes solidumque madentis harenae
       Litus et aequoreis splendidus Anxur aquis,
Et non unius spectator lectulus undae,
       Qui videt hinc puppes fluminis, inde maris!                            10
Sed nec Marcelli Pompeianumque, nec illic
       Sunt triplices thermae, nec fora iuncta quater,
Nec Capitolini summum penetrale Tonantis,
       Quaeque nitent caelo proxima templa suo.
Dicere te lassum quotiens ego credo Quirino:                            15

O grove, O springs, and the firm shore of the dripping sands,
       and Anxur, splendid with sea-waters,
and the little couch, a spectator not of one kind of wave,
       which sees from here the ships of the river, from there of the sea!                            10
But neither the theaters of Marcellus and of Pompey are there,
       nor the triple thermae, nor the four fora joined,
nor the highest inner shrine of the Capitoline Thunderer,
       nor the temples which shine nearest to their own sky.
How often I believe you to say, to Quirinus, that you are weary:                            15

'Quae tua sunt, tibi habe: quae mea, redde mihi.'

'What is yours, keep for yourself; what is mine, render back to me.'

LII

Thelyn viderat in toga spadonem,
Damnatam Numa dixit esse moecham.

He had seen Thelyn, a eunuch, in a toga;
Numa said that she was a condemned adulteress.

LIII

Ille ego sum Scorpus, clamosi gloria Circi,
Plausus, Roma, tui deliciaeque breves,
Invida quem Lachesis raptum trieteride nona,
Dum numerat palmas, credidit esse senem.

I am that Scorpus, the glory of the clamorous Circus,
the applause, Rome, of yours and your brief delight,
whom envious Lachesis, snatched away in the ninth three-year cycle,
while she was counting the palms, believed to be an old man.

LIV

Mensas, Ole, bonas ponis, sed ponis opertas.
Ridiculum est: possum sic ego habere bonas.

You set good tables, Ole, but you set them covered.
It is ridiculous: I too can have good ones that way.

Arrectum quotiens Marulla penem
Pensavit digitis diuque mensa est,
Libras, scripula sextulasque dicit;
Idem post opus et suas palaestras
Loro cum similis iacet remisso, 5
Quanto sit levior Marulla dicit.
Non ergo est manus ista, sed statera.

Whenever Marulla has weighed the erect penis
with her fingers and for a long time has measured it,
she names pounds, scruples, and sextules;
the same, after the work and her wrestling-bouts,
when it lies like a steelyard with its strap relaxed, 5
Marulla says how much lighter it is.
Therefore that is not a hand, but a steelyard.

LVI

Totis, Galle, iubes tibi me servire diebus
       Et per Aventinum ter quater ire tuum.
Eximit aut reficit dentem Cascellius aegrum,
       Infestos oculis uris, Hygine, pilos;
Non secat et tollit stillantem Fannius uvam,                            5
       Tristia saxorum stigmata delet Eros;
Enterocelarum fertur Podalirius Hermes:
       Qui sanet ruptos dic mihi, Galle, quis est?

Galle, you order me to serve you for whole days,
       and to go through your Aventine thrice and four times.
Cascellius removes or repairs the ailing tooth,
       Hyginus, you burn the hairs hostile to the eyes;
Does not Fannius cut and take away the dripping grape,                            5
       Eros erases the grim stigmata of stones;
Hermes is reported a Podalirius of enteroceles:
       tell me, Galle, who is there to heal the ruptured?

LVII

Argenti libram mittebas; facta selibra est,
Sed piperis. Tanti non emo, Sexte, piper.

You were sending a pound of silver; it has become a half-pound,
but of pepper. At such a price I do not buy pepper, Sextus.

LVIII

Anxuris aequorei placidos, Frontine, recessus
       Et propius Baias litoreamque domum,
Et quod inhumanae cancro fervente cicadae
       Non novere nemus, flumineosque lacus
Dum colui, doctas tecum celebrare vacabat                            5
       Pieridas: nunc nos maxima Roma terit.
Hic mihi quando dies meus est? iactamur in alto
       Urbis, et in sterili vita labore perit,
Dura suburbani dum iugera pascimus agri
       Vicinosque tibi, sancte Quirine, lares.                            10
Sed non solus amat qui nocte dieque frequentat
       Limina, nec vatem talia damna decent.

Of sea Anxur’s placid recesses, Frontinus,
       and the shore-house nearer to Baiae,
and the grove which the pitiless cicadas, when Cancer is blazing,
       do not know, and the river-lakes—
while I tended these, it was my leisure with you to celebrate the learned                            5
       Pierides: now greatest Rome wears us down.
Here—when is my own day for me? We are tossed on the deep
       of the City, and life perishes in barren labor,
while we graze the hard acres of a suburban field
       and the household gods neighboring to you, holy Quirinus.                            10
But it is not only he who loves who haunts the thresholds night and day,
       nor do such losses befit a poet.

Per veneranda mihi Musarum sacra, per omnes
Iuro deos: Et non officiosus amo.

By the rites of the Muses, venerable to me, by all
I swear by the gods: And I do not love dutifully.

LIX

Consumpta est uno si lemmate pagina, transis,
       Et breviora tibi, non meliora placent.
Dives et ex omni posita est instructa macello
       Cena tibi, sed te mattea sola iuvat.
Non opus est nobis nimium lectore guloso;                            5
       Hunc volo, non fiat qui sine pane satur.

If the page is consumed with a single lemma, you pass on,
       And shorter things please you, not better ones.
A rich dinner is set out and furnished for you from every market-stall,
       But only the tidbit delights you.
We have no need of an overly gluttonous reader;                            5
       I want this one, who does not become sated without bread.

Iura trium petiit a Caesare discipulorum
Adsuetus semper Munna docere duos.

He asked from Caesar the rights of three students
Munna, always accustomed to teach two.

LXI

Hic festinata requiescit Erotion umbra,
       Crimine quam fati sexta peremit hiems.
Quisquis eris nostri post me regnator agelli,
       Manibus exiguis annus iusta dato:
Sic lare perpetuo, sic turba sospite solus                            5
       Flebilis in terra sit lapis iste tua.

Here the hurried shade of Erotion rests,
       whom the sixth winter slew by fate’s crime.
Whoever you will be, after me, ruler of my little plot,
       to her slight hands give the yearly just dues:
Thus, with your hearth perpetual, thus your household safe, may this stone alone                            5
       be tearful in your land.

LXII

Ludi magister, parce simplici turbae:
Sic te frequentes audiant capillati
Et delicatae diligat chorus mensae,
Nec calculator nec notarius velox
Maiore quisquam circulo coronetur. 5
Albae leone flammeo calent luces
Tostamque fervens Iulius coquit messem.
Cirrata loris horridis Scythae pellis,
Qua vapulavit Marsyas Celaenaeus,
Ferulaeque tristes, sceptra paedagogorum, 10
Cessent et Idus dormiant in Octobres:
Aestate pueri si valent, satis discunt.

Schoolmaster, spare the simple throng:
Thus may the long‑haired listen to you in crowds,
and may the chorus of the delicate table love you,
nor let any calculator nor swift notary
be crowned with a greater circle. 5
Bright days grow hot under the flaming Lion,
and burning July cooks the toasted harvest.
The Scythian hide, fringed with horrid lashes,
with which Marsyas of Celaenae was flogged,
and the gloomy ferules, scepters of pedagogues, 10
let them cease and sleep until the October Ides:
in summer, if boys are well, they learn enough.

LXIII

Marmora parva quidem, sed non cessura, viator,
       Mausoli saxis pyramidumque legis.
Bis mea Romano spectata est vita Tarento,
       Et nihil extremos perdidit ante rogos:
Quinque dedit pueros, totidem mihi Iuno puellas,                            5
       Cluserunt omnes lumina nostra manus.
Contigit et thalami mihi gloria rara fuitque
       Una pudicitiae mentula nota meae.

Small marbles indeed, yet not to yield, traveler,
       to the stones of Mausolus and of the pyramids, you read.
Twice my life was proved in Roman Tarentum,
       and it lost nothing before the final pyres:
It gave five boys, and Juno gave to me just as many girls,                            5
       all their hands closed my eyes.
And the rare glory of the marriage-bed befell me,
       one single member was the mark of my chastity.

LXIV

Contigeris regina meos si Polla libellos,
       Non tetrica nostros excipe fronte iocos.
Ille tuus vates, Heliconis gloria nostri,
       Pieria caneret cum fera bella tuba,
Non tamen erubuit lascivo dicere versu                            5
       'Si nec pedicor, Cotta, quid hic facio?'

If you, Queen Polla, come upon my little books,
       do not receive our jokes with a grim brow.
That poet of yours, the glory of our Helicon,
       when he sang fierce wars with the Pierian trumpet,
yet he did not blush to say in lascivious verse                            5
       'If I am not being sodomized, Cotta, what am I doing here?'

LXV

Cum te municipem Corinthiorum
Iactes, Charmenion, negante nullo,
Cur frater tibi dicor, ex Hiberis
Et Celtis genitus Tagique civis?
An voltu similes videmur esse? 5
Tu flexa nitidus coma vagaris,
Hispanis ego contumax capillis;
Levis dropace tu cotidiano,
Hirsutis ego cruribus genisque;
Os blaesum tibi debilisque lingua est, 10
Nobis filia fortius loquetur:
Tam dispar aquilae columba non est,
Nec dorcas rigido fugax leoni.
Quare desine me vocare fratrem,
Ne te, Charmenion, vocem sororem.

Since you, Charmenion, boast yourself a citizen of the Corinthians,
       with no one denying it,
why am I called your brother, born from the Iberians
and the Celts and a citizen of the Tagus?
Or do we seem to be similar in countenance?                            5
You, polished, wander with curled hair;
I, defiant with Spanish hair;
you, smooth by your everyday dropax;
I, with shaggy legs and cheeks;
you have a lisping mouth and a feeble tongue—                            10
even a daughter among us will speak more strongly:
a dove is not so unlike an eagle,
nor the gazelle the rigid lion.
Therefore stop calling me brother,
lest I, Charmenion, call you sister.

LXVI

Quis, rogo, tam durus, quis tam fuit ille superbus,
       Qui iussit fieri te, Theopompe, cocum?
Hanc aliquis faciem nigra violare culina
       Sustinet, has uncto polluit igne comas?
Quis potius cyathos aut quis crystalla tenebit?                            5
       Qua sapient melius mixta Falerna manu?

Who, I ask, was so hard, who was that one so proud,
       who ordered you, Theopompus, to be made a cook?
Has anyone the heart to let the black kitchen violate this face,
       and to defile these locks with a greasy fire?
Who would rather hold the ladles, or who the crystal cups?                            5
       By what hand will mixed Falernian taste better?

Si tam sidereos manet exitus iste ministros,
Iuppiter utatur iam Ganymede coco.

If such an outcome awaits the sidereal ministers,
Let Jupiter now make use of Ganymede as a cook.

LXVII

Pyrrhae filia, Nestoris noverca,
Quam vidit Niobe puella canam,
Laertes aviam senex vocavit,
Nutricem Priamus, socrum Thyestes,
Iam cornicibus omnibus superstes, 5
Hoc tandem sita prurit in sepulchro
Calvo Plutia cum Melanthione.

the daughter of Pyrrha, the stepmother of Nestor,
whom Niobe, a girl, saw gray‑haired,
Laertes, an old man, called her grandmother,
Priam her nurse, Thyestes her mother‑in‑law,
now surviving all ravens, 5
in this tomb at last, laid to rest, she still itches—
Plutia with bald Melanthio.

LXVIII

Cum tibi non Ephesos nec sit Rhodos aut Mitylene,
       Sed domus in vico, Laelia, patricio,
Deque coloratis numquam lita mater Etruscis,
       Durus Aricina de regione pater;
KÊriš mou, mšli mou, cuxÆ mou congeris usque,                            5
        — Pro pudor! — Hersiliae civis et Egeriae.
Lectulus has voces, nec lectulus audiat omnis,
       Sed quem lascivo stravit amica viro.

Since you have not Ephesus nor is there Rhodes or Mytilene for you,
       But a house in a patrician street, Laelia,
And your mother was never smeared with colored Etruscan paints,
       A stern father from the Arician region;
You keep piling up “my dear, my soul, my life” without end,                            5
        — For shame! — a fellow-citizen of Hersilia and Egeria.
Let the little couch hear these words, nor let every little couch hear them,
       But that which a girlfriend has spread for her lascivious man.

Scire cupis quo casta modo matrona loquaris?
Numquid, cum crisas, blandior esse potes? 10
Tu licet ediscas totam referasque Corinthon,
Non tamen omnino, Laelia, Lais eris.

Do you wish to know in what manner you might speak as a chaste matron?
Might you, when you wiggle, be more coaxing? 10
Even if you memorize and reproduce all of Corinth,
Yet not at all, Laelia, will you be a Lais.

LXIX

Custodes das, Polla, viro, non accipis ipsa.
Hoc est uxorem ducere, Polla, virum.

You give guards to your husband, Polla; you yourself do not receive them.
This is to take as wife, Polla, a man.

LXX

Quod mihi vix unus toto liber exeat anno,
       Desidiae tibi sum, docte Potite, reus.
Iustius at quanto mirere, quod exeat unus,
       Labantur toti cum mihi saepe dies.
Non resalutantis video nocturnus amicos,                            5
       Gratulor et multis, nemo, Potite, mihi.

That scarcely a single book comes out for me in a whole year,
       I stand accused of sloth before you, learned Potitus.
Yet how much more justly might you marvel that one comes out,
       since whole days often slip away for me.
By night I see friends who do not return my salutation,                            5
       I offer congratulations to many; no one, Potitus, to me.

Nunc ad luciferam signat mea gemma Dianam,
       Nunc me prima sibi, nunc sibi quinta rapit.
Nunc consul praetorve tenet reducesque choreae,
       Auditur toto saepe poeta die.                            10
Sed nec causidico possis inpune negare,
       Nec si te rhetor grammaticusve rogent.
Balnea post decumam lasso centumque petuntur
       Quadrantes.

Now my gem marks me down for light-bearing Diana,
       Now the first hour seizes me for herself, now the fifth for herself.
Now the consul or the praetor holds me, and the returning choruses,
       The poet is often heard through the whole day.                            10
But you cannot refuse with impunity to an advocate,
       Nor if a rhetor or a grammarian should ask you.
The baths after the tenth are sought by the weary, and
       A hundred quadrantes are demanded.

Fiet quando, Potite, liber?

When will there be a book, Potitus?

LXXI

Quisquis laeta tuis et sera parentibus optas
       Fata, brevem titulum marmoris huius ama.
Condidit hac caras tellure Rabirius umbras;
       Nulli sorte iacent candidiore senes:
Bis sex lustra tori nox mitis et ultima clusit,                            5
       Arserunt uno funera bina rogo.
Hos tamen ut primis raptos sibi quaerit in annis.

Whoever you are who wish for your parents happy and late
       Fates, love the brief inscription of this marble.
Rabirius interred his dear shades in this earth;
       No elders lie with a fairer lot:
Twice six lustra of the couch the gentle and final night closed,                            5
       Two funerals burned on one pyre.
Yet she seeks them as if snatched from her in their earliest years.

Inprobius nihil his fletibus esse potest.

Nothing could be more shameless than these tears.

LXXII

Frustra, Blanditiae, venitis ad me
Attritis miserabiles labellis:
Dicturus dominum deumque non sum.
Iam non est locus hac in urbe vobis;
Ad Parthos procul ite pilleatos 5
Et turpes humilesque supplicesque
Pictorum sola basiate regum.
Non est hic dominus, sed imperator,
Sed iustissimus omnium senator,
Per quem de Stygia domo reducta est 10
Siccis rustica Veritas capillis.

In vain, Flatteries, you come to me
wretched with chafed little lips:
I am not going to say “lord and god.”
There is no place for you now in this city;
Go far away to the felt-capped Parthians 5
and, base and low and suppliant,
kiss the soles of painted kings.
There is here no “lord,” but an emperor,
but the most just senator of all,
through whom rustic Truth has been led back from the Stygian house 10
with dry hair.

Hoc sub principe, si sapis, caveto,
Verbis, Roma, prioribus loquaris.

Under this Princeps, if you are wise, take care,
Rome, to speak with earlier words.

LXXIII

Littera facundi gratum mihi pignus amici
       Pertulit, Ausoniae dona severa togae,
Qua non Fabricius, sed vellet Apicius uti,
       Vellet Maecenas Caesarianus eques.
Vilior haec nobis alio mittente fuisset;                            5
       Non quacumque manu victima caesa litat:
A te missa venit: possem nisi munus amare,
       Marce, tuum, poteram nomen amare meum.
Munere sed plus est et nomine gratius ipso
       Officium docti iudiciumque viri.

A letter, a pleasing pledge from an eloquent friend,
       brought the severe gifts of the Ausonian toga,
which not Fabricius, but Apicius would wish to use,
       Maecenas, a Caesarian knight, would wish to use.
This would have been cheaper to me with another sending it;                            5
       not by just any hand does a slain victim propitiate:
sent by you it came: if I could not love the gift,
       Marcus, yours, I could love my own name.
But more than the gift and more pleasing than the name itself
       is the service and the judgment of a learned man.

LXXIV

Iam parce lasso, Roma, gratulatori,
Lasso clienti. Quamdiu salutator
Anteambulones et togatulos inter
Centum merebor plumbeos die toto,
Cum Scorpus una quindecim graves hora 5
Ferventis auri victor auferat saccos?
Non ego meorum praemium libellorum
— Quid enim merentur?

Now spare the weary congratulator, Rome,
the weary client. How long, as a saluter,
among forerunners and little‑toga’d fellows,
shall I earn a hundred leaden tokens for the whole day,
while Scorpus in a single hour as victor carries off fifteen heavy sacks 5
of fervent gold?
Not that I claim the reward of my little books—
— For what indeed do they deserve?

— Apulos velim campos:
Non Hybla, non me spicifer capit Nilus,
Nec quae paludes delicata Pomptinas 10
Ex arce clivi spectat uva Setini.
Quid concupiscam quaeris ergo? dormire.

— I would like the Apulian fields:
Not Hybla, not the grain-bearing Nile captivates me,
nor the delicate Setine grape which from the citadel of the slope 10
looks upon the Pontine marshes.
What do I long for, then? To sleep.

LXXV

Milia viginti quondam me Galla poposcit
Et, fateor, magno non erat illa nimis.
Annus abit: 'Bis quina dabis sestertia' dixit.
Poscere plus visa est quam prius illa mihi.

Once Galla demanded twenty thousand from me,
And, I confess, for a large price that was not too much.
A year goes by: 'You will give twice five sestertia,' she said (10,000 sesterces).
She seemed to me to be asking more than before.

Iam duo poscenti post sextum milia mensem                            5
       Mille dabam nummos. Noluit accipere.
Transierant binae forsan trinaeve Kalendae,
       Aureolos ultro quattuor ipsa petit.

Already, after the sixth month, as she was asking for two thousand,                            5
       I was giving a thousand coins. She did not want to accept.
Two, or perhaps three, Kalends had gone by,
       she herself unbidden asks for four little aurei.

Non dedimus. Centum iussit me mittere nummos:
Sed visa est nobis haec quoque summa gravis. 10
Sportula nos iunxit quadrantibus arida centum;
Hanc voluit: puero diximus esse datam.
Inferius numquid potuit descendere?

We did not give. She ordered me to send a hundred coins:
But this sum too seemed heavy to us. 10
A dry sportula reconciled us for a hundred quadrantes;
She wanted this: we said it had been given to the boy.
Could she have descended to anything lower?

fecit.
Dat gratis, ultro dat mihi Galla: nego.

she did it.
She gives it gratis, Galla gives to me unasked: I refuse.

LXXVI

Hoc, Fortuna, tibi videtur aequum?
Civis non Syriaeve Parthiaeve,
Nec de Cappadocis eques catastis,
Sed de plebe Remi Numaeque verna,
Iucundus, probus, innocens amicus, 5
Lingua doctus utraque, cuius unum est,
Sed magnum vitium, quod est poeta,
Pullo Mevius alget in cucullo,
Cocco mulio fulget Incitatus.

Does this, Fortune, seem just to you?
A citizen not of Syria nor of Parthia,
nor a knight out of the Cappadocian slave-blocks,
but a home-born of the plebs of Remus and Numa,
a pleasant, upright, guiltless friend, 5
learned in both tongues, who has one—
but a great—fault: that he is a poet,
Mevius shivers in a dark-brown cowl,
Incitatus the muleteer glitters in scarlet.

LXXVII

Nequius a Caro nihil umquam, Maxime, factum est,
Quam quod febre perit: fecit et illa nefas.
Saeva nocens febris saltem quartana fuisset!
Servari medico debuit ille suo.

Nothing more wicked was ever done by Caro, Maximus,
than that he perished of a fever: even that committed a nefarious deed.
If only the savage, noxious fever had at least been a quartan!
He ought to have been saved by his own physician.

LXXVIII

Ibis litoreas, Macer, Salonas,
Ibit rara fides amorque recti
Et quae, cum comitem trahit pudorem,
Semper pauperior redit potestas:
Felix auriferae colone terrae,                            5
Rectorem vacuo sinu remittes
Optabisque moras, et exeuntem
Udo Dalmata gaudio sequeris.
Nos Celtas, Macer, et truces Hiberos
Cum desiderio tui petemus.                            10
Sed quaecumque tamen feretur illinc
Piscosi calamo Tagi notata,
Macrum pagina nostra nominabit:
Sic inter veteres legar poetas,
Nec multos mihi praeferas priores,                            15

You will go to coastal Salonae, Macer;
Rare good faith and the love of the right will go,
And that power which, when it draws Modesty as companion,
Always returns the poorer:
Happy colonist of the gold-bearing land,                            5
You will send back the governor with an empty purse,
And you will wish for delays, and, as he departs,
The Dalmatian will follow with tear-wet joy.
We shall seek the Celts, Macer, and the fierce Hiberians,
With longing for you.                            10
But whatever, nevertheless, shall be carried from there,
Marked by the reed-pen of fish-rich Tagus,
Our page will name Macer:
Thus I shall be read among the old poets,
Nor will you prefer many predecessors before me.                            15

Uno sed tibi sim minor Catullo.

But let me be, in your eyes, one less than Catullus.

LXXIX

Ad lapidem Torquatus habet praetoria quartum;
       Ad quartum breve rus emit Otacilius.
Torquatus nitidas vario de marmore thermas
       Extruxit; cucumam fecit Otacilius.
Disposuit daphnona suo Torquatus in agro;                            5
       Castaneas centum sevit Otacilius.

At the milestone—the fourth—Torquatus has a praetorium;
       At the fourth Otacilius bought a small farm.
Torquatus constructed shining baths from variegated marble
       He built them; Otacilius made a cooking-pot.
Torquatus arranged a laurel-grove on his own land;                            5
       Otacilius planted a hundred chestnuts.

Consule Torquato vici fuit ille magister,
Non minor in tanto visus honore sibi.
Grandis ut exiguam bos ranam ruperat olim,
Sic, puto, Torquatus rumpet Otacilium.

With Torquatus as consul, that fellow was ward‑master,
nor did he seem to himself lesser in so great an honor.
As once a grand ox burst an exiguous frog,
thus, I think, Torquatus will burst Otacilius.

LXXX

Plorat Eros, quotiens maculosae pocula murrae
       Inspicit aut pueros nobiliusve citrum,
Et gemitus imo ducit de pectore, quod non
       Tota miser coemat Saepta feratque domum.
Quam multi faciunt, quod Eros, sed lumine sicco!                            5
       Pars maior lacrimas ridet et intus habet.

Eros weeps, whenever he looks upon mottled myrrhine cups,
       or boys, or the rather nobler citron-wood;
and he draws groans from his inmost breast, because, poor wretch,
       he cannot buy up the whole Saepta and carry it home.
How many do what Eros does, but with a dry eye!                            5
       The greater part laughs at tears and holds them within.

LXXXI

Cum duo venissent ad Phyllida mane fututum
Et nudam cuperet sumere uterque prior,
Promisit pariter se Phyllis utrique daturam,
Et dedit: ille pedem sustulit, hic tunicam.

When two had come to Phyllis in the morning to fuck,
and each wanted to take the naked girl first,
Phyllis promised equally that she would give herself to both,
and she did: that one lifted his foot, this one his tunic.

LXXXII

Si quid nostra tuis adicit vexatio rebus,
       Mane vel a media nocte togatus ero
Stridentesque feram flatus aquilonis iniqui
       Et patiar nimbos excipiamque nives.
Sed si non fias quadrante beatior uno                            5
       Per gemitus nostros ingenuasque cruces,
Parce, precor, fesso vanosque remitte labores,
       Qui tibi non prosunt et mihi, Galle, nocent.

If my vexation adds anything to your affairs,
       at dawn or even from midnight I will be toga‑clad,
and I will bear the shrilling blasts of iniquitous Aquilo
       and I will endure rain‑clouds and take the snows full on.
But if you do not become happier by a single quadrans                            5
       by our groans and freeborn cruciations,
spare me, I pray, when I am weary, and remit the empty labors,
       which do not benefit you and, Gallus, harm me.

LXXXIII

Raros colligis hinc et hinc capillos
Et latum nitidae, Marine, calvae
Campum temporibus tegis comatis;
Sed moti redeunt iubente vento
Reddunturque sibi caputque nudum 5
Cirris grandibus hinc et inde cingunt:
Inter Spendophorum Telesphorumque
Cydae stare putabis Hermerotem.
Vis tu simplicius senem fateri,
Ut tandem videaris unus esse! 10
Calvo turpius est nihil comato.

You gather sparse hairs here and there
and, Marinus, you cover the broad field of your gleaming bald head
with shaggy locks at the temples;
but, moved at the wind’s command, they return
and are restored to themselves, and the naked head 5
they gird with great curls on this side and that:
between Spendophorus and Telesphorus
you would think Hermerotes of Cyda stands.
Will you choose to confess yourself an old man more simply,
so that at last you may seem to be one! 10
Nothing is more unsightly than a bald man with a mane.

LXXXIV

Miraris, quare dormitum non eat Afer?
Accumbat cum qua, Caediciane, vides.

Do you marvel why Afer does not go to sleep?
You see with whom he reclines, Caedicianus.

LXXXV

Iam senior Ladon Tiberinae nauta carinae
       Proxima dilectis rura paravit aquis.
Quae cum saepe vagus premeret torrentibus undis
       Thybris et hiberno rumperet arva lacu,
Emeritam puppem, ripa quae stabat in alta,                            5
       Inplevit saxis obposuitque vadis.
Sic nimias avertit aquas.

Now older Ladon, sailor of a Tiberine keel,
       prepared fields nearest to his beloved waters.
Which, whenever the roving Tiber pressed with torrential waves
       and with a wintry lake was breaking the fields,
He filled the retired ship, which stood on the high bank,                            5
       with stones and set it against the shallows.
Thus he turned aside the excessive waters.

Quis credere posset?
Auxilium domino mersa carina tulit.

Who could have believed it?
The sunken keel brought aid to its lord.

LXXXVI

Nemo nova caluit sic inflammatus amica,
Flagravit quanto Laurus amore pilae.
Sed qui primus erat lusor dum floruit aetas,
Nunc postquam desit ludere, prima pila est.

No one grew hot, so inflamed by a new girlfriend,
as much as Laurus blazed with love for the ball.
But he who was the foremost player while his age flowered,
now, since playing fails him, the ball is first.

LXXXVII

Octobres age sentiat Kalendas
Facundi pia Roma Restituti:
Linguis omnibus et favete votis;
Natalem colimus, tacete lites.
Absit cereus aridi clientis,                            5
Et vani triplices brevesque mappae
Expectent gelidi iocos Decembris.
Certent muneribus beatiores:
Agrippae tumidus negotiator
Cadmi municipes ferat lacernas;                            10
Pugnorum reus ebriaeque noctis
Cenatoria mittat advocato;
Infamata virum puella vicit,
Veros sardonychas, sed ipsa tradat;
Mirator veterum senex avorum                            15

Come now, let pious Rome feel the October Kalends
of eloquent Restitutus: with every tongue be favorable to our vows;
we celebrate a birthday—be silent, lawsuits.
Let the wax-taper of the gaunt client be absent,                            5
and let the vain triple-ply and short napkins
await the jests of chilly December.
Let the more fortunate vie with gifts:
let the puffed-up merchant of Agrippa bring cloaks (lacernae) for Cadmus’s citizens;
let the defendant for fistfights and a drunken night                            10
send dinner-clothes to his advocate;
a girl, defamed by a man, has won—
let her give true sardonyxes, but let her hand them over herself;
the old man, an admirer of our forefathers of old                            15

Donet Phidiaci toreuma caeli;
Venator leporem, colonus haedum,
Piscator ferat aequorum rapinas.
Si mittit sua quisque, quid poetam
Missurum tibi, Restitute, credis?

Let him give a toreutic piece of the Phidian chisel;
the hunter a hare, the farmer a kid,
let the fisherman bring the spoils of the seas.
If each sends what is his own, what do you think the poet
will send to you, Restitute?

LXXXVIII

Omnes persequeris praetorum, Cotta, libellos;
Accipis et ceras. Officiosus homo es.

You prosecute all the praetors’ libels, Cotta;
you even receive the wax tablets. An officious man you are.

LXXXIX

Iuno labor, Polyclite, tuus et gloria felix,
       Phidiacae cuperent quam meruisse manus,
Ore nitet tanto, quanto superasset in Ide
       Iudice convictas non dubitante deas.
Iunonem, Polyclite, suam nisi frater amaret,                            5
       Iunonem poterat frater amare tuam.

Juno, your labor, Polyclitus, and felicitous glory,
       which the Phidian hands would have wished to have merited,
she shines in countenance so greatly, that on Ida
       with the judge not doubting she would have surpassed the goddesses convicted.
If the brother did not love his own Juno, Polyclitus,                            5
       the brother could have loved your Juno.

Quid vellis vetulum, Ligeia, cunnum?
Quid busti cineres tui lacessis?
Tales munditiae decent puellas
— Nam tu iam nec anus potes videri — ;
Istud, crede mihi, Ligeia, belle 5
Non mater facit Hectoris, sed uxor.

What do you want with a little old cunt, Ligeia?
Why do you provoke the ashes of your tomb?
Such elegances befit girls
— For now you cannot even seem an old woman — ;
That thing, believe me, Ligeia, nicely, 5
is done not by Hector’s mother, but by his wife.

Erras, si tibi cunnus hic videtur,
Ad quem mentula pertinere desit.
Quare si pudor est, Ligeia, noli
Barbam vellere mortuo leoni.

You err, if this seems to you a cunt to which a phallus does not pertain.
Therefore, if you have modesty, Ligeia, do not pluck the beard of a dead lion.

XCI

Omnes eunuchos habet Almo nec arrigit ipse:
Et queritur, pariat quod sua Polla nihil.

Almo has all eunuchs, and he himself does not get it up:
And he complains that his Polla bears nothing.

XCII

Marri, quietae cultor et comes vitae,
Quo cive prisca gloriatur Atina,
Has tibi gemellas barbari decus luci
Conmendo pinus ilicesque Faunorum
Et semidocta vilici manu structas                            5
Tonantis aras horridique Silvani,
Quas pinxit agni saepe sanguis aut haedi,
Dominamque sancti virginem deam templi,
Et quem sororis hospitem vides castae
Martem mearum principem Kalendarum,                            10
Et delicatae laureum nemus Florae,
In quod Priapo persequente confugit.
Hoc omne agelli mite parvuli numen
Seu tu cruore sive ture placabis:
'Ubicumque vester Martialis est,' dices,                            15

Marri, cultivator and companion of a quiet life,
With whom as citizen ancient Atina glories,
These twin pines and holm-oaks of the Fauns, the glory of the barbarous grove,
I commend to you, and the altars built by the half-taught hand of the bailiff                            5
of the Thunderer and of rough Silvanus,
which the blood of a lamb or a kid has often painted,
and the mistress, the maiden goddess, of the holy temple,
and Mars, whom you see as the guest of the chaste sister,
the leader of my Kalends, and the laurel grove of delicate Flora,                            10
into which she fled with Priapus pursuing.
This whole mild divinity of the very small field,
whether you will placate with blood or with incense,
you shall say: 'Wherever your Martial is,'                            15

'Hac, ecce, mecum dextera litat vobis
Absens sacerdos; vos putate praesentem
Et date duobus quidquid alter optabit.'

'Behold, with this right hand an absent priest makes offering to you;
deem me present,
and grant to the two whatever either shall desire.'

XCIII

Si prior Euganeas, Clemens, Helicaonis oras
       Pictaque pampineis videris arva iugis,
Perfer Atestinae nondum vulgata Sabinae
       Carmina, purpurea sed modo culta toga.
Ut rosa delectat, metitur quae pollice primo,                            5
       Sic nova nec mento sordida charta iuvat.

If first you, Clement, see the Euganean, Heliconian shores,
       and the painted fields on vine-clad ridges,
carry the not-yet-published songs of Atestine Sabina,
       songs but only just now adorned with the purple toga.
As a rose delights, which is measured by the first thumb,                            5
       so too a fresh sheet, not dirty at the chin, gives pleasure.

XCIV

Non mea Massylus servat pomaria serpens,
       Regius Alcinoi nec mihi servit ager,
Sed Nomentana securus germinat hortus
       Arbore, nec furem plumbea mala timent.
Haec igitur media quae sunt modo nata Subura                            5
       Mittimus autumni cerea poma mei.

Not a Massylian serpent guards my orchards,
       nor does the royal field of Alcinous serve me,
but my Nomentan garden, untroubled, is burgeoning with its tree,
       nor do the leaden apples fear the thief.
These, therefore, which have just now been born in the middle Subura                            5
       we send—the waxen fruits of my autumn.

XCV

Infantem tibi vir, tibi, Galla, remisit adulter.
Hi, puto, non dubie se futuisse negant.

Your husband sent the infant back to you, to you, Galla, the adulterer sent it back as well.
These two, I suppose, without a doubt deny having fucked you.

XCVI

Saepe loquar nimium gentes quod, Avite, remotas,
       Miraris, Latia factus in urbe senex,
Auriferumque Tagum sitiam patriumque Salonem
       Et repetam saturae sordida rura casae.
Illa placet tellus, in qua res parva beatum                            5
       Me facit et tenues luxuriantur opes:
Pascitur hic, ibi pascit ager; tepet igne maligno
       Hic focus, ingenti lumine lucet ibi;
Hic pretiosa fames conturbatorque macellus,
       Mensa ibi divitiis ruris operta sui;                            10
Quattuor hic aestate togae pluresve teruntur,
       Autumnis ibi me quattuor una tegit.
I, cole nunc reges, quidquid non praestat amicus
       Cum praestare tibi possit, Avite, locus.

Often I will speak too much of far-remote peoples, Avitus,
       you marvel, made an old man in the Latian city,
and I thirst for the gold-bearing Tagus and my native Salona,
       and I would seek again the squalid fields of a well-stocked cottage.
That land pleases, in which a small estate makes me blessed,                            5
       and slender resources luxuriate:
here the field is fed; there the field feeds;
       here the hearth is lukewarm with a malign fire, there it shines with vast light;
here are costly hunger and the troublemaking meat-market,
       there the table is covered with the riches of its own countryside;                            10
here in summer four togas or more are worn out,
       there in autumns one covers me for four.
Go on, court kings now—whatever a friend does not provide,
       when a place can provide it for you, Avitus.

XCVII

Dum levis arsura struitur Libitina papyro,
Dum murram et casias flebilis uxor emit,
Iam scrobe, iam lecto, iam pollinctore parato
Heredem scripsit me Numa: convaluit.

While Libitina is arranging on papyrus the light stuff for burning,
while the tearful wife buys myrrh and cassias,
now with the grave, now with the bier, now with the pollinctor made ready,
Numa wrote me as heir: he recovered.

XCVIII

Addat cum mihi Caecubum minister
Idaeo resolutior cinaedo,
Quo nec filia cultior nec uxor
Nec mater tua nec soror recumbit,
Vis spectem potius tuas lucernas 5
Aut citrum vetus Indicosque dentes?
Suspectus tibi ne tamen recumbam,
Praesta de grege sordidaque villa
Tonsos, horridulos, rudes, pusillos
Hircosi mihi filios subulci. 10
Perdet te dolor hic: habere, Publi,
Mores non potes hos et hos ministros.

Let the cupbearer, looser than an Idaean catamite, pour Caecuban for me—
on which neither your daughter, more preened, nor your wife,
nor your mother nor your sister reclines—
do you want me rather to gaze at your lamps
or your old citrus-wood and Indian ivories? 5
Yet, lest I be suspect to you when I recline,
provide for me, from the herd and filthy farmhouse,
the shorn, somewhat shaggy, raw, tiny
sons of a goat-reeking swineherd.
This pang will ruin you: to have, Publius, 10
you cannot have both such ways and such attendants.

XCIX

Si Romana forent haec Socratis ora, fuissent
Iulius in Saturis qualia Rufus habet.

If these were the Roman features of Socrates, they would have been such as Julius Rufus has in the Satires.

100

Quid, stulte, nostris versibus tuos misces?
Cum litigante quid tibi, miser, libro?
Quid congregare cum leonibus volpes
Aquilisque similes facere noctuas quaeris?

Why, fool, do you mix your verses with ours?
What have you, wretched one, to do with a litigious book?
Why do you congregate foxes with lions,
and do you seek to make owls similar to eagles?

Habeas licebit alterum pedem Ladae, 5
Inepte, frustra crure ligneo curres.

You may have, if you please, one of Ladas' feet, 5
Fool, you will run in vain with a wooden leg.

101

Elysio redeat si forte remissus ab agro
Ille suo felix Caesare Gabba vetus,
Qui Capitolinum pariter Gabbamque iocantes
Audierit, dicet: 'Rustice Gabba, tace.'

If by chance he were sent back from the Elysian field
that old Gabba, happy under his own Caesar,
Whoever the Capitoline and Gabba jesting together
shall have heard, will say: 'Rustic Gabba, be silent.'

CII

102

Qua factus ratione sit requiris,
Qui numquam futuit, pater Philinus?
Gaditanus, Avite, dicat istud,
Qui scribit nihil et tamen poeta est.

By what method he has been made, you ask,
he who never copulated, father Philinus?
Let the Gaditanian say that, Avitus,
who writes nothing and yet is a poet.

CIII

103

Municipes Augusta mihi quos Bilbilis acri
       Monte creat, rapidis quem Salo cingit aquis,
Ecquid laeta iuvat vestri vos gloria vatis?
       Nam decus et nomen famaque vestra sumus,
Nec sua plus debet tenui Verona Catullo                            5
       Meque velit dici non minus illa suum.
Quattuor accessit tricesima messibus aestas,
       Ut sine me Cereri rustica liba datis,
Moenia dum colimus dominae pulcherrima Romae:
       Mutavere meas Itala regna comas.                            10
Excipitis placida reducem si mente, venimus;
       Aspera si geritis corda, redire licet.

Fellow townsmen whom Augusta Bilbilis begets for me on a sharp       mountain, which the Salo encircles with rushing waters,
does the glad glory of your poet delight you at all?
       For we are your honor and your name and your fame,
nor does Verona owe more to her slender Catullus,                            5
       and may that city wish me to be called no less her own.
A thirtieth summer has come in addition to four harvests,
       since you offer rustic cakes to Ceres without me,
while we inhabit the most beautiful walls of lady Rome:
       the Italian realms have altered my locks.                            10
If you welcome me, returning, with a placid mind, I have come;
       if you bear harsh hearts, I am free to turn back.

CIV

104

I nostro comes, i libelle, Flavo
Longum per mare, sed faventis undae,
Et cursu facili tuisque ventis
Hispanae pete Tarraconis arces:
Illinc te rota tollet et citatus                            5
Altam Bilbilin et tuum Salonem
Quinto forsitan essedo videbis.
Quid mandem tibi quaeris? ut sodales
Paucos, sed veteres et ante brumas
Triginta mihi quattuorque visos                            10
Ipsa protinus a via salutes,
Et nostrum admoneas subinde Flavum
Iucundos mihi nec laboriosos
Secessus pretio paret salubri,
Qui pigrum faciant tuum parentem.                            15

Go as our companion, go, little book, to Flavus,
across the long sea, yet with favoring waves,
and with an easy course and with your own winds
seek the citadels of Hispanic Tarraco:
From there the wheel will lift you, and, sped along, 5
you will see lofty Bilbilis and your Salo;
perhaps on the fifth, by chariot, you will see them.
You ask what I should enjoin on you? that the comrades—
few, but old, and before the frosts
thirty and four, seen by me— 10
you yourself at once from the road may greet,
and that you from time to time admonish our Flavus
to provide for me agreeable and not laborious
retreats at a healthful price,
which may make your parent indolent.

Haec sunt. iam tumidus vocat magister
Castigatque moras, et aura portum
Laxavit melior. vale, libelle:
Navem, scis, puto, non moratur unus.

These are the things. Already the puffed-up master calls
and castigates the delays, and a better breeze
has loosened the port. Farewell, little book:
you know, I think, one man does not delay a ship.