Martial: EPIGRAMMATON LIBRI

Accipe belligerae crudum thoraca Mineruae,
ipsa Medusaeae quem timet ira comae.
Dum uacat, haec, Caesar, poterit lorica uocari:
pectore cum sacro sederit, aegis erit.

Receive the raw cuirass of war-bearing Minerva,
which the very wrath of Medusan hair fears.
While it is idle, this, Caesar, can be called a cuirass:
when it has settled on your sacred breast, it will be an aegis.

Inuia Sarmaticis domini lorica sagittis
    et Martis Getico tergore fida magis,
quam uel ad Aetolae securam cuspidis ictus
    texuit innumeri lubricus unguis apri,
felix sorte tua, sacrum cui tangere pectus              5
    fas erit et nostri mente calere dei.
I comes et magnos inlaesa merere triumphos
    palmataeque ducem, sed cito, redde togae.

Inaccessible to Sarmatian arrows, the lord’s lorica,
    and more trusty than the Getic hide of Mars,
than that which the slippery tusk of the innumerable boar
    wove, secure even against the blows of an Aetolian spear-point—
happy in your lot, for whom it shall be lawful to touch the sacred breast              5
    and to grow warm in mind with our god.
Go as a companion, and, uninjured, earn great triumphs,
    and quickly restore the leader to the palm-embroidered toga.

Cur non mitto meos tibi, Pontiliane, libellos?
ne mihi tu mittas, Pontiliane, tuos.

Why do I not send my little books to you, Pontilianus?
so that you may not send yours to me, Pontilianus.

Esset, Castrice, cum mali coloris,
uersus scribere coepit Oppianus.

Castricus, when he was of poor color, Oppianus began to write verses.
Oppianus began to write verses.

Si desiderium, Caesar, populique patrumque
    respicis et Latiae gaudia uera togae,
redde deum uotis poscentibus. Inuidet hosti
    Roma suo, ueniat laurea multa licet:
terrarum dominum propius uidet ille tuoque              5
    terretur uultu barbarus et fruitur.

If you regard the longing, Caesar, of the people and the Fathers,
    and the true joys of the Latin toga,
restore the god to vows that are beseeching. Rome envies
    her own enemy, although many a laurel may come:
he sees the lord of the lands more closely, and at your              5
    face the barbarian is terrified and he enjoys it.

Ecquid Hyperboreis ad nos conuersus ab oris
    Ausonias Caesar iam parat ire uias?
Certus abest auctor, sed uox hoc nuntiat omnis:
    credo tibi, uerum dicere, Fama, soles.
Publica uictrices testantur gaudia chartae,              5
    Martia laurigera cuspide pila uirent.

Is he at all, turned from Hyperborean shores, toward us,
    is Caesar already preparing to go the Ausonian roads?
A sure author is lacking, but every voice announces this:
    I believe you, Fame; you are wont to speak truth.
Public papers testify to victorious joys,              5
    the martial spears are green with a laurel-bearing point.

Rursus, io, magnos clamat tibi Roma triumphos,
inuictusque tua, Caesar, in urbe sonas.
Sed iam laetitiae quo sit fiducia maior,
Sarmaticae laurus nuntius ipse ueni. 10

Again, io, Rome cries out great triumphs to you,
and, unconquered, you resound in your own city, Caesar.
But now, that the confidence of joy may be greater,
I myself come as the messenger of Sarmatian laurels. 10

Hiberna quamuis Arctos et rudis Peuce
et ungularum pulsibus calens Hister
fractus cornu iam ter inprobo Rhenus
teneat domantem regna perfidae gentis
te, summe mundi rector et parens orbis: 5
abesse nostris non tamen potes uotis.
Illic et oculis et animis sumus, Caesar,
adeoque mentes omnium tenes unus
ut ipsa magni turba nesciat Circi
utrumque currat Passerinus an Tigris. 10

Although the wintry Bear and rough Peuce
and the Ister warmed by the beatings of hoofs,
the Rhine, with its insolent horn now thrice broken,
may hold you, the tamer, in the realms of the perfidious nation—
you, highest ruler of the world and parent of the orb: 5
nevertheless you cannot be absent from our vows.
There with eyes and minds we are, Caesar,
and so much you alone hold the minds of all
that the very crowd of the great Circus does not know
whether Passerinus or Tigris is running either team. 10

Nunc hilares, si quando mihi, nunc ludite, Musae:
    uictor ab Odrysio redditur orbe deus.
Certa facis populi tu primus uota, December:
    iam licet ingenti dicere uoce "Venit!"
felix sorte tua! Poteras non cedere Iano,              5
    gaudia si nobis quae dabit ille dares.

Now be cheerful—if ever for me—now play, Muses:
    the god is returned as victor from the Odrysian world.
You make the people’s vows sure, you first, December:
    now it is permitted to declare with a mighty voice, 'He has come!'
happy in your lot! You could not cede to Janus,              5
    if you gave to us the joys which he will give.

Festa coronatus ludet conuicia miles,
inter laurigeros cum comes ibit equos.
Fas audire iocos leuioraque carmina, Caesar,
et tibi, si lusus ipse triumphus amat. 10

The soldier, crowned, will sport with taunts at the feasts,
as a companion he will go among the laurel-bearing horses.
It is right to hear jests and lighter songs, Caesar,
and for you as well, if the triumph itself loves play. 10

Cum sexaginta numeret Cascellius annos,
ingeniosus homo est: quando disertus erit?

When Cascellius numbers sixty years,
he is an ingenious man: when will he be eloquent?

Pedicatur Eros, fellat Linus: Ole, quid ad te
    de cute quid faciant ille uel ille sua?
Centenis futuit Matho milibus: Ole, quid ad te?
    Non tu propterea sed Matho pauper erit.
In lucem cenat Sertorius: Ole, quid ad te,              5
    cum liceat tota stertere nocte tibi?

Eros is sodomized, Linus fellates: Ole, what’s it to you
    what this one or that one does with his own skin?
Matho fucks for hundreds of thousands: Ole, what’s it to you?
    Not you for that reason, but Matho will be poor.
Sertorius dines into daylight: Ole, what’s it to you,              5
    since it’s permitted for you to snore the whole night?

Septingenta Tito debet Lupus: Ole, quid ad te?
    Assem ne dederis crediderisue Lupo.
Illud dissimulas ad te quod pertinet, Ole,
    quodque magis curae conuenit esse tuae.              10
Pro togula debes: hoc ad te pertinet, Ole.
    Quadrantem nemo iam tibi credit: et hoc.

Lupus owes Titus seven hundred: Ole, what is that to you?
    Do not give or lend even an as to Lupus.
You dissimulate what pertains to you, Ole,
    and what more fittingly ought to be your care.              10
You owe for the little toga: this pertains to you, Ole.
    No one now gives you credit for even a quadrans: and this too.

Vxor moecha tibi est: hoc ad te pertinet, Ole.
Poscit iam dotem filia grandis: et hoc.
Dicere quindecies poteram quod pertinet ad te: 15

Your wife is an adulteress: this pertains to you, Ole.
Your grown-up daughter now demands her dowry: and this too.
I could say fifteen times what pertains to you: 15

sed quid agas ad me pertinet, Ole, nihil.

but what you do pertains to me, Ole, nothing at all.

Cogis me calamo manuque nostra
emendare meos, Pudens, libellos.
O quam me nimium probas amasque
qui uis archetypas habere nugas!

You compel me with the reed-pen and by my own hand
to emend my little books, Pudens.
O how excessively you approve and love me,
you who wish to have archetypal trifles!

Sic me fronte legat dominus, Faustine, serena
    excipiatque meos qua solet aure iocos,
ut mea nec iuste quos odit pagina laesit
    et mihi de nullo fama rubore placet.
Quid prodest, cupiant cum quidam nostra uideri,              5
    si qua Lycambeo sanguine tela madent,
uipereumque uomat nostro sub nomine uirus,
    qui Phoebi radios ferre diemque negat?
ludimus innocui: scis hoc bene: iuro potentis
    per genium famae Castaliumque gregem              10
perque tuas aures, magni mihi numinis instar,
    lector inhumana liber ab inuidia.

Thus may the lord read me with a serene brow, Faustinus,
    and with the ear with which he is wont receive my jests,
so that my page has harmed not even those whom it justly hates,
    and my repute pleases me with no blush from anyone.
What profit is it, when certain men desire that things be seen as ours,              5
    if some darts are dripping with Lycambes’ blood,
and under our name he spews viperine venom,
    he who denies he can bear Phoebus’ rays and the daylight?
We play harmlessly: you know this well: I swear by the powerful
    genius of Fame and the Castalian flock,              10
and by your ears, to me the likeness of a great numen,
    reader free from inhuman envy.

Dum Tiburtinis albescere solibus audit
antiqui dentis fusca Lycoris ebur,
uenit in Herculeos colles. Quid Tiburis alti
aura ualet! Paruo tempore nigra redit.

While dusky Lycoris hears that the ivory of an antique tooth grows white
in the Tiburtine suns, she comes to the Herculean hills.
How potent is the air of high Tibur!
In a short time she returns black.

Accidit infandum nostrae scelus, Aule, puellae;
    amisit lusus deliciasque suas:
non quales teneri plorauit amica Catulli
    Lesbia, nequitiis passeris orba sui,
uel Stellae cantata meo quas fleuit Ianthis,              5
    cuius in Elysio nigra columba uolat:
lux mea non capitur nugis neque moribus istis
    nec dominae pectus talia damna mouent:
bis senos puerum numerantem perdidit annos,
    mentula cui nondum sesquipedalis erat.              10

An unspeakable crime has befallen our girl, Aulus;
    she has lost her plaything and her delights:
not such as the girlfriend of tender Catullus wept,
    Lesbia, bereft of her sparrow’s naughtiness,
or such as Ianthis, sung by my Stella, wept,              5
    whose black dove flies in Elysium:
my light is not captivated by trifles nor by such manners,
    nor do such losses move my mistress’s heart:
she has lost a boy counting twice six years,
    whose penis was not yet a foot and a half long.              10

Quis puer hic nitidis absistit Ianthidos undis?
Effugit dominam Naida numquid Hylas?
O bene quod silua colitur Tirynthius ista
et quod amatrices tam prope seruat aquas!

Who is this boy here that stands back from Ianthis’s gleaming waves?
Has Hylas perchance escaped his mistress, the Naiad?
O good that this wood is frequented by the Tirynthian,
and that he guards the amorous waters so near!

Securus licet hos fontes, Argynne, ministres: 5
nil facient Nymphae; ne uelit ipse caue.

Securely you may minister at these springs, Argynne: 5
the Nymphs will do nothing; beware lest he himself should wish it.

Aera domi non sunt, superest hoc, Regule, solum
ut tua uendamus munera: numquid emis?

There is no money at home; this alone remains, Regulus—
that we sell your gifts: will you perhaps buy?

Ruris bibliotheca delicati,
uicinam uidet unde lector urbem,
inter carmina sanctiora si quis
lasciuae fuerit locus Thaliae,
hos nido licet inseras uel imo, 5
septem quos tibi misimus libellos
auctoris calamo sui notatos:
haec illis pretium facit litura.
At tu munere, delicata, paruo
quae cantaberis orbe nota toto, 10
pignus pectoris hoc mei tuere,
Iuli bibliotheca Martialis.

Library of the refined country‑dandy,
from where the reader sees the neighboring city,
if among holier songs there shall be any place
for playful Thalia,
it is permitted that you insert into a pigeonhole even the lowest, 5
the seven little books which we sent to you,
marked by their author’s own pen:
this correction‑mark gives them their price.
But you, delicate one, who will be sung of as known through the whole orb by a small gift,
guard this pledge of my heart, 10
Julius’s library—Martial.

Cum tibi sit facies de qua nec femina possit
    dicere, cum corpus nulla litura notet,
cur te tam rarus cupiat repetatque fututor
    miraris? Vitium est non leue, Galla, tibi.
Accessi quotiens ad opus mixtisque mouemur              5
    inguinibus, cunnus non tacet, ipsa taces.

Since you have a face of which not even a woman could speak ill,
    and since no blemish marks your body,
why do you marvel that so rare a fucker desires you and seeks you again?
    It is no light fault, Galla, in you.
As often as I have approached to the deed, and as we move with our groins mingled,              5
    the cunt does not keep silent; you yourself keep silent.

di facerent ut tu loquereris et ille taceret:
    offendor cunni garrulitate tui.
Pedere te mallem: namque hoc nec inutile dicit
    Symmachus et risum res mouet ista simul.              10
Quis ridere potest fatui poppysmata cunni?
    Cum sonat hic, cui non mentula mensque cadit?

may the gods grant that you speak and that it be silent:
    I am offended by the garrulity of your cunt.
I would rather you fart: for Symmachus says that this too is not useless, and that thing at once stirs laughter.              10
Who can laugh at the poppings of a fatuous cunt?
    When this one sounds, whose dick and mind do not fall?

Dic aliquid saltem clamosoque obstrepe cunno
et, si adeo muta es, disce uel inde loqui.

Say something at least, and with noise drown out the clamorous cunt
and, if you are so mute, learn even from there to speak.

Fragmentum quod uile putas et inutile lignum,
    haec fuit ignoti prima carina maris.
Quam nec Cyaneae quondam potuere ruinae
    frangere nec Scythici tristior ira freti.
Saecula uicerunt: sed quamuis cesserit annis,              5
    sanctior est salua parua tabella rate.

The fragment which you think vile and useless wood,
    this was the first keel of the unknown sea.
Which not even the Cyanean crashes once were able
    to shatter, nor the grimmer wrath of the Scythian strait.
Ages have conquered: but although it has yielded to the years,              5
    the small tablet is more sacred, with the raft saved.

Nihil est miserius neque gulosius Santra.
Rectam uocatus cum cucurrit ad cenam,
quam tot diebus noctibusque captauit,
ter poscit apri glandulas, quater lumbum,
et utramque coxam leporis et duos armos, 5
nec erubescit peierare de turdo
et ostreorum rapere liuidos cirros.
Buccis placentae sordidam linit mappam;
illic et uuae conlocantur ollares
et Punicorum pauca grana malorum 10
et excauatae pellis indecens uoluae
et lippa ficus debilisque boletus.

Nothing is more wretched nor more gluttonous than Santra.
Called, he ran straight to dinner,
which he had stalked for so many days and nights,
thrice he demands the boar’s glands, four times the loin,
and both haunches of the hare and two shoulders, 5
nor does he blush to perjure himself about a thrush,
and to snatch the bluish frills of oysters.
With his cheeks full of cake he besmears the napkin;
there too are set pot-grapes,
and a few seeds of Punic apples (pomegranates), 10
and the unseemly skin of a hollowed-out womb,
and a bleary fig and a feeble mushroom.

Sed mappa cum iam mille rumpitur furtis,
rosos tepenti spondylos sinu condit
et deuorato capite turturem truncum. 15

But when the napkin now is ripped by a thousand thefts,
he conceals gnawed vertebrae in his tepid bosom
and, the head devoured, the truncated turtledove. 15

Colligere longa turpe nec putat dextra
analecta quidquid et canes reliquerunt.
Nec esculenta sufficit gulae praeda:
mixto lagonam replet ad pedes uino.
Haec per ducentas cum domum tulit scalas 20
seque obserata clusit anxius cella
gulosus ille, postero die uendit.

He does not think it disgraceful to gather with a long right hand
the pickings, whatever even the dogs have left behind.
Nor does esculent plunder suffice for his gullet:
he fills a flagon at his feet with mixed wine.
When he has carried these home up 200 stairs 20
and, anxious, has shut himself in a bolted cell,
that glutton sells them on the next day.

Haec est illa dies, quae magni conscia partus
Lucanum populis et tibi, Polla, dedit.
Heu! Nero crudelis nullaque inuisior umbra,
debuit hoc saltem non licuisse tibi.

This is that day, which, conscious of a great birth,
gave Lucan to the peoples and to you, Polla.
Alas! Nero—cruel, and than whose shade none is more hated—
this at least ought not to have been permitted to you.

Vatis Apollinei magno memorabilis ortu
lux redit: Aonidum turba, fauete sacris.
Haec meruit, cum te terris, Lucane, dedisset,
mixtus Castaliae Baetis ut esset aquae.

The light returns, memorable for the great birth of the Apollonian bard;
throng of the Aonides, favor the sacred rites.
This day deserved that, when it had given you, Lucan, to the lands,
the Baetis should be mingled with the Castalian water.

Phoebe, ueni, sed quantus eras cum bella tonanti
ipse dares Latiae plectra secunda lyrae.
Quid tanta pro luce precer? Tu, Polla, maritum
saepe colas et se sentiat ille coli.

Phoebus, come, but as mighty as you were when, while the Thunderer waged wars,
you yourself gave a second on the Latin lyre to the Thunderer.
What should I pray for on account of so great a light? You, Polla, may you often cherish your husband,
and may he feel himself to be cherished.

Cum Iuuenale meo quae me committere temptas,
    quid non audebis, perfida lingua, loqui?
Te fingente nefas Pyladen odisset Orestes,
    Thesea Pirithoi destituisset amor,
tu Siculos fratres et maius nomen Atridas              5
    et Ledae poteras dissociare genus.
Hoc tibi pro meritis et talibus inprecor ausis,
    ut facias illud quod, puto, lingua, facis.

With my Juvenal, whom you try to pit me against,
    what will you not dare, perfidious tongue, to speak?
With you shaping a nefas, Orestes would have hated Pylades,
    love for Pirithous would have deserted Theseus;
you could dissociate the Sicilian brothers and the Atreids, a greater name,              5
    and the stock of Leda.
This I imprecate on you for your deserts and such daring,
    that you may do that which, I suppose, tongue, you do.

Dulcia cum tantum scribas epigrammata semper
    et cerussata candidiora cute,
nullaque mica salis nec amari fellis in illis
    gutta sit, o demens, uis tamen illa legi!
Nec cibus ipse iuuat morsu fraudatus aceti,              5
    nec grata est facies cui gelasinus abest.
Infanti melimela dato fatuasque mariscas:
    nam mihi, quae nouit pungere, Chia sapit.

Since you always write only sweet epigrams,
    and whiter than a skin plastered with ceruse,
and there is not a crumb of salt nor a drop of bitter gall
    in them, O madman, yet you want them to be read!
Nor does food itself please when cheated of the bite of vinegar,              5
    nor is a face pleasing from which the dimple is absent.
Give honey-apples to an infant and insipid pears:
    for me, Chian wine tastes good that knows how to prick.

Apollinarem conueni meum, scazon,
et si uacabit — ne molestus accedas, —
hoc qualecumque, cuius aliqua pars ipse est,
dabis: haec facetum carmen inbuant aures.
Si te receptum fronte uideris tota, 5
noto rogabis ut fauore sustentet.
Quanto mearum, scis, amore nugarum
flagret: nec ipse plus amare te possum.

Meet my Apollinaris, scazon,
and, if he has leisure — do not approach as a nuisance —
you will give him this whatever-it-is, of which he himself is some part;
let a witty song soak those ears.
If you see yourself received with an entire brow, 5
with a nod you will ask him to sustain it with favor.
You know with how great a love he blazes for my trifles:
nor can I myself love you more.

Contra malignos esse si cupis tutus,
Apollinarem conueni meum, scazon. 10

If you wish to be safe against the malign,
meet my Apollinaris, scazon. 10

Tuscae glandis aper populator et ilice multa
    iam piger, Aetolae fama secunda ferae,
quem meus intrauit splendenti cuspide Dexter,
    praeda iacet nostris inuidiosa focis.
Pinguescant madido laeti nidore penates              5
    flagret et exciso festa culina iugo.
Sed cocus ingentem piperis consumet aceruum,
    addet et arcano mixta Falerna garo:
ad dominum redeas, noster te non capit ignis,
    conturbator aper: uilius esurio.              10

The boar, ravager of Tuscan acorn and of much holm-oak,
    now sluggish, second in fame to the Aetolian beast,
whom my Dexter ran through with a shining spearhead,
    the spoil lies envy-stirring at our hearths.
Let the glad Penates grow fat with the dripping savor,              5
    and let the festive kitchen blaze with the ridge cut away.
But the cook will consume a huge heap of pepper,
    and will add Falernian mingled with secret garum:
go back to your master; our fire does not take you in,
    boar, troubler of order: I hunger for something cheaper.              10

Sic Tiburtinae crescat tibi silua Dianae
    et properet caesum saepe redire nemus,
nec Tartesiacis Pallas tua, Fusce, trapetis
    cedat et inmodici dent bona musta lacus;
sic fora mirentur, sic te Palatia laudent,              5
    excolat et geminas plurima palma fores:
otia dum medius praestat tibi parua December,
    exige, sed certa, quos legis, aure iocos.
"Scire libet uerum? Res est haec ardua."
    quod tibi uis dici dicere, Fusce, potes.              10

Thus may the Tiburtine forest of Diana grow for you,
    and may the grove, once cut, hasten often to return;
nor let your Pallas, Fuscus, yield to the Tartessian olive presses,
    and let vats of immoderate size give good musts;
thus may the fora marvel, thus may the Palatine praise you,              5
    and may many a palm (of victory) adorn your twin doors:
while mid-December grants you brief leisure,
    exact, but sure ones, the jests you read, with your ear.
"Do you wish to know the truth? This thing is arduous."
    what you wish to be said to you, Fuscus, you can say.              10

Thestyle, Victoris tormentum dulce Voconi,
    quo nemo est toto notior orbe puer,
sic etiam positis formonsus amere capillis
    et placeat uati nulla puella tuo:
paulisper domini doctos sepone libellos,              5
    carmina Victori dum lego parua tuo.
Et Maecenati, Maro cum cantaret Alexin,
    nota tamen Marsi fusca Melaenis erat.

Thestyle, the sweet torment of Victor, O Voconus,
    than whom no boy is better known in the whole orb,
so also, handsome to be loved even with your locks set aside,
    and may no girl please your poet:
for a little while set aside your master’s learned little books,              5
    while I read little songs to your Victor.
And to Maecenas, when Maro was singing Alexis,
    yet the dusky Melaenis of Marsus was known.

Das Parthis, das Germanis, das, Caelia, Dacis,
    nec Cilicum spernis Cappadocumque toros;
et tibi de Pharia Memphiticus urbe fututor
    nauigat, a rubris et niger Indus aquis;
nec recutitorum fugis inguina Iudaeorum,              5
    nec te Sarmatico transit Alanus equo.
Qua ratione facis, cum sis Romana puella,
    quod Romana tibi mentula nulla placet?

You give to the Parthians, you give to the Germans, you give, Caelia, to the Dacians,
    nor do you spurn the couches of the Cilicians and the Cappadocians;
and from the Pharian city a Memphite fucker sails for you,
    and a black Indian from the red waters;
nor do you flee the loins of circumcised Jews,              5
    nor does an Alan on a Sarmatian horse pass you by.
By what rationale do you do this, since you are a Roman girl,
    that no Roman cock pleases you?

Raucae chortis aues et oua matrum
et flauas medio uapore Chias
et fetum querulae rudem capellae
nec iam frigoribus pares oliuas
et canum gelidis holus pruinis 5
de nostro tibi missa rure credis?
O quam, Regule, diligenter erras!
Nil nostri, nisi me, ferunt agelli.

Hoarse coop-birds and the mothers’ eggs
and golden Chian figs with warmth at the core
and the raw newborn of the bleating she-goat
and olives now no longer a match for the cold
and greens hoary with icy hoarfrosts 5
do you believe have been sent to you from our farm?
O how diligently you err, Regulus!
Our little fields bear nothing of ours, except me.

Quidquid uilicus Vmber aut colonus
aut rus marmore tertio notatum 10
aut Tusci tibi Tusculiue mittunt,
id tota mihi nascitur Subura.

Whatever the Umbrian bailiff or tenant farmer,
or the countryside marked by the third marble milestone, 10
or the Tuscans or Tusculum send to you,
the whole Subura produces that for me.

Attice, facundae renouas qui nomina gentis
    nec sinis ingentem conticuisse domum,
te pia Cecropiae comitatur turba Mineruae,
    te secreta quies, te sophos omnis amat.
At iuuenes alios fracta colit aure magister              5
    et rapit inmeritas sordidus unctor opes.
Non pila, non follis, non te paganica thermis
    praeparat aut nudi stipitis ictus hebes,
uara nec in lento ceromate bracchia tendis,
    non harpasta uagus puluerulenta rapis,              10
sed curris niueas tantum prope Virginis undas
    aut ubi Sidonio taurus amore calet.

Atticus, you who renew the names of the eloquent tribe
    nor allow the mighty house to have fallen silent,
the pious crowd of Cecropian Minerva accompanies you,
    secret repose loves you, every sage loves you.
But a master courts other youths with a broken ear              5
    and a filthy oiler snatches unmerited riches.
Not the ball, not the bladder-ball, not the paganica in the baths
    prepares you, nor the dull blow of a naked post,
nor do you stretch crooked arms in sticky ceroma,
    nor, wandering, do you snatch the dusty harpastum,              10
but you run only near the snowy waters of the Virgin
    or where the bull grows hot with Sidonian love.

Per uarias artes, omnis quibus area seruit,
ludere, cum liceat currere, pigritia est.

Through various arts, for all of which the exercise-ground serves,
to play, when it is permitted to run, is sloth.

Sordidior caeno cum sit toga, calceus autem
candidior prima sit tibi, Cinna, niue:
deiecto quid, inepte, pedes perfundis amictu?
Collige, Cinna, togam; calceus ecce perit.

Since your toga is filthier than mud, but, Cinna,
your shoe is whiter than first snow:
why, fool, do you drench your feet with your cast-down cloak?
Gather your toga up, Cinna; look, the shoe is ruined.

Quo possit fieri modo, Seuere,
ut uir pessimus omnium Charinus
unam rem bene fecerit, requiris?
Dicam, sed cito. Quid Nerone peius?

By what way it could come about, Severe,
that Charinus, the worst man of all,
has done one thing well, you inquire?
I will tell—but quickly. What is worse than Nero?

Quid thermis melius Neronianis? 5
Non dest protinus, ecce, de malignis
qui sic rancidulo loquatur ore:
"Quid tu tot domini deique nostri
praefers muneribus?" Neronianas
thermas praefero balneis cinaedi. 10

What is better than the Neronian baths? 5
There is no lack straightway, look, among the malicious
of one who would speak thus with a rancid little mouth:
“What do you put ahead of the many gifts of our lord and god?”
I prefer the Neronian baths to a pathic’s baths. 10

Inguina succinctus nigra tibi seruos aluta
    stat, quotiens calidis tota foueris aquis;
sed meus, ut de me taceam, Laecania, seruos
    Iudaeum nuda sub cute pondus habet,
sed nudi tecum iuuenesque senesque lauantur.              5
    An sola est serui mentula uera tui?
Ecquid femineos sequeris, matrona, recessus,
    secretusque tua, cunne, lauaris aqua?

A slave, girt at the groin with black leather, stands for you,
    whenever you have warmed yourself all over in the hot waters;
but my slave, Laecania—to say nothing of me—
    has a Jewish weight beneath bare skin,
but with you both youths and old men bathe naked.              5
    Or is only your slave’s cock the true one?
Do you pursue the feminine recesses at all, matron,
    and, hidden, do you, cunt, wash in your own private water?

Cum pluuias madidumque Iouem perferre negaret
    et rudis hibernis uilla nataret aquis,
plurima, quae posset subitos effundere nimbos,
    muneribus uenit tegula missa tuis.
Horridus, ecce, sonat Boreae stridore December:              5
    Stella, tegis uillam, non tegis agricolam.

When it refused to endure the rains and a sodden Jove,
    and the rough villa was swimming with winter waters,
a tile, very serviceable to pour off sudden showers,
    came, sent among your gifts.
Rough, look, December sounds with the screech of Boreas:              5
    Stella, you cover the villa, you do not cover the farmer.

Nosti mortiferum quaestoris, Castrice, signum?
    Est operae pretium discere theta nouum:
exprimeret quotiens rorantem frigore nasum,
    letalem iuguli iusserat esse notam.
Turpis ab inuiso pendebat stiria naso,              5
    cum flaret media fauce December atrox:
collegae tenuere manus: quid plura requiris?

Do you know the death-bringing signal of the quaestor, Castricus?
    It is worth the effort to learn the new theta:
whenever he squeezed his nose, dripping with cold,
    he had ordered it to be the lethal mark for the throat.
An ugly icicle hung from his hated nose,              5
    when cruel December blew from its very throat:
his colleagues stayed their hands: what more do you ask?

Emungi misero, Castrice, non licuit.

It was not permitted for the miserable man, Castricus, to have his nose blown.

Tantus es et talis, nostri Polypheme, Seueri
ut te mirari possit et ipse Cyclops.
Sed nec Scylla minor. Quod si fera monstra duorum
iunxeris, alterius fiet uterque timor.

So great and such you are, our Polyphemus, Severus,
that even the Cyclops himself could marvel at you.
But Scylla is no lesser. And if you join the fierce monsters of the two,
each will become the fear of the other.

Discursus uarios uagumque mane
et fastus et haue potentiorum
cum perferre patique iam negaret,
coepit fingere Caelius podagram.
Quam dum uolt nimis adprobare ueram 5
et sanas linit obligatque plantas
inceditque gradu laborioso,
—quantum cura potest et ars doloris! —
desit fingere Caelius podagram.

The varied excursions and the roving morning
and the haughtiness and the “hail!” of the more powerful,
when he now refused to endure and to suffer them,
Caelius began to feign the gout.
Which, while he wants too much to prove real, 5
he even smears and bandages sound soles,
and proceeds with a laborious gait,
—how much care and the art of pain can do!—
let Caelius cease to feign the gout.

Hic iacet ille senex Augusta notus in aula,
    pectore non humili passus utrumque deum;
natorum pietas sanctis quem coniugis umbris
    miscuit: Elysium possidet ambo nemus.
Occidit illa prior uiridi fraudata iuuenta:              5
    hic prope ter senas uixit Olympiadas.
Sed festinatis raptum tibi credidit annis,
    aspexit lacrimas quisquis, Etrusce, tuas.

Here lies that old man, known in the imperial hall,
    with a not humble breast having endured both gods;
the piety of his sons has mingled him with the holy shades of his spouse:
    they both possess the Elysian grove.
She fell first, defrauded of verdant youth:              5
    he lived nearly eighteen Olympiads.
But that he was snatched from you with years too hastened,
    whoever beheld your tears, Etruscan, believed.

Cosmicos esse tibi, Semproni Tucca, uideris.
Cosmica, Semproni, tam mala quam bona sunt.

You seem to have cosmeticians for yourself, Sempronius Tucca.
Cosmetics, Sempronius, are as bad as they are good.

Muneribus cupiat se quis contendere tecum,
    audeat hic etiam, Castrice, carminibus.
Nos tenues in utroque sumus uincique parati:
    inde sopor nobis et placet alta quies.
Tam mala cur igitur dederim tibi carmina, quaeris?              5
    Alcinoo nullum poma dedisse putas?

Let anyone desire to contend with you in gifts,
    let him also dare, Castricus, in songs.
We are slight in both and ready to be overcome:
    thence sleep is ours, and deep repose pleases.
Why then, you ask, have I given you such bad poems?              5
    Do you think that no one has given apples to Alcinous?

Primum est ut praestes, si quid te, Cinna, rogabo;
illud deinde sequens ut cito, Cinna, neges.
Diligo praestantem; non odi, Cinna, negantem:
sed tu nec praestas nec cito, Cinna, negas.

First, that you grant, if I ask you anything, Cinna;
then the next, that you quickly deny, Cinna.
I esteem the one who grants; I do not hate, Cinna, the one who denies:
but you neither grant nor quickly deny, Cinna.

Maximus ille tuus, Ouidi, Caesonius hic est,
    cuius adhuc uultum uiuida cera tenet.
Hunc Nero damnauit; sed tu damnare Neronem
    ausus es et profugi, non tua, fata sequi:
aequora per Scyllae magnus comes exulis isti,              5
    qui modo nolueras consulis ire comes.
Si uictura meis mandantur nomina chartis
    et fas est cineri me superesse meo,
audiet hoc praesens uenturaque turba fuisse
    ille te, Senecae quod fuit ille suo.              10

That greatest of yours, Ovid, is this Caesonius,
    whose visage living wax still keeps to this day.
Nero condemned him; but you dared to condemn Nero
    and to follow the fates, not yours, of a fugitive:
across Scylla’s waters you went, a great companion of the exile,              5
    you who a moment before had been unwilling to go as a consul’s companion.
If names destined to live are entrusted to my pages,
    and it is divinely permitted that I survive my own ashes,
the present crowd and the coming will hear that he was to you
    what that man was to his own Seneca.              10

Facundi Senecae potens amicus,
caro proximus aut prior Sereno,
hic est Maximus ille, quem frequenti
felix littera pagina salutat.
Hunc tu per Siculas secutus undas, 5
o nullis, Ouidi, tacende linguis,
spreuisti domini furentis iras.
Miretur Pyladen suum uetustas,
haesit qui comes exuli parentis.

the powerful friend of eloquent Seneca,
dear, nearest—or even prior—to Serenus,
this is that Maximus, whom the fortunate
page greets with frequent letter.
Him you, through the Sicilian waves, 5
O Ovid, not to be hushed by any tongues,
you spurned the wrath of a raging master.
Let antiquity admire its Pylades,
who clung as a companion to his exiled parent.

Quis discrimina comparet duorum? 10
Haesisti comes exuli Neronis.

Who would compare the differences of the two? 10
You clung as companion to Nero in exile.

Commendare tuum dum uis mihi carmine munus
    Maeonioque cupis doctius ore loqui,
excrucias multis pariter me teque diebus,
    et tua de nostro, Prisce, Thalia tacet.
Diuitibus poteris musas elegosque sonantes              5
    mittere: pauperibus munera pezav dato.

While you wish to commend your gift to me by song,
    and desire to speak more learnedly with a Maeonian mouth,
you torment both me and yourself alike for many days,
    and your Thalia, Priscus, is silent on my account.
To the rich you will be able to send Muses and resounding elegies              5
    to send; to the poor give small gifts.

Doctorum Licini celeberrime Sura uirorum,
    cuius prisca grauis lingua reduxit auos,
redderis — heu, quanto fatorum munere! — nobis
    gustata Lethes paene remissus aqua.
Perdiderant iam uota metum securaque flebat              5
    tristities lacrimis iamque peractus eras:
non tulit inuidiam taciti reganator Auerni
    et ruptas Fatis reddidit ipse colus.

Most celebrated, Sura Licinius, among learned men,
    whose grave tongue has led back the ancient ancestors,
you are returned — alas, by how great a gift of the Fates! — to us,
    almost sent back after Lethe’s water had been tasted.
Our vows had already lost fear, and, grown secure, sadness was weeping              5
    with tears, and already you were finished:
the ruler of silent Avernus did not bear the envy,
    and himself gave back the distaffs, broken off, to the Fates.

Scis igitur quantas hominum mors falsa querellas
mouerit et frueris posteritate tua. 10
Viue uelut rapto fugitiuaque gaudia carpe:
perdiderit nullum uita reuersa diem.

You know, therefore, how great a false death has stirred the complaints of men,
and you enjoy your posterity. 10
Live as if on plunder, and seize fugitive joys:
life, returned, will have lost no day.

Cum mensas habeat fere trecentas,
pro mensis habet Annius ministros:
transcurrunt gabatae uolantque lances.
Has uobis epulas habete, lauti:
nos offendimur ambulante cena. 5

Though he has nearly three hundred tables,
Annius has waiters instead of tables:
platters run past and plates fly.
Keep these banquets for yourselves, you elegant ones:
we are offended by an ambulatory dinner. 5

Parua suburbani munuscula mittimus horti:
faucibus oua tuis, poma, Seuere, gulae.

We send small little gifts from the suburban garden:
for your throat, eggs; apples, Severus, for your gullet.

Fons dominae, regina loci quo gaudet Ianthis,
    gloria conspicuae deliciumque domus,
cum tua tot niueis ornetur ripa ministris
    et Ganymedeo luceat unda choro,
quid facit Alcides silua sacratus in ista?              5
    Tam uicina tibi cur tenet antra deus?
Nunquid Nympharum notos obseruat amores,
    tam multi pariter ne rapiantur Hylae?

Fountain of the lady, Ianthe, queen of the place wherein she rejoices,
    the glory and the delight of the conspicuous house,
when your bank is adorned with so many snowy-white attendants
    and the wave shines with a Ganymedean chorus,
what is Alcides, hallowed in that grove, doing?              5
    Why does the god hold caves so near to you?
Is he perhaps keeping watch on the notorious loves of the Nymphs,
    lest so many Hylases be snatched away together?

Mercari nostras si te piget, Vrbice, nugas
    et lasciua tamen carmina nosse libet,
Pompeium quaeres — et nosti forsitan — Auctum;
    Vltoris prima Martis in aede sedet:
iure madens uarioque togae limatus in usu              5
    non lector meus hic, Vrbice, sed liber est.
Sic tenet absentes nostros cantatque libellos
    ut pereat chartis littera nulla meis:
denique, si uellet, poterat scripsisse uideri;
    sed famae mauult ille fauere meae.              10
Hunc licet a decuma — neque enim satis ante uacabit —
    sollicites, capiet cenula parua duos;
ille leget, bibe tu; nolis licet, ille sonabit:
    et cum "Iam satis est" dixeris, ille leget.

If you are loath to purchase our trifles, Urbicus,
    and yet you wish to know lascivious poems,
you will look for Pompeius — and perhaps you know him — Auctus;
    he sits in the temple of Mars the Avenger, in the front:
soaked in law and polished by the varied use of the toga,              5
    this man, Urbicus, is not my reader, but my book.
Thus he keeps my little books when I am absent and sings them
    so that no letter perishes from my pages:
in short, if he wished, he could seem to have written them;
    but he prefers to favor my fame.              10
You may solicit him after the Tenth Hour — for he will not be free enough earlier —
    a little supper will take in two;
he will read, you drink; even if you are unwilling, he will sound forth;
    and when you say “Now it is enough,” he will read.

Gratum est quod Celeri nostros legis, Aucte, libellos,
    si tamen et Celerem quod legis, Aucte, iuuat.
Ille meas gentes et Celtas rexit Hiberos,
    nec fuit in nostro certior orbe fides.
Maior me tanto reuerentia turbat et aures              5
    non auditoris, iudicis esse puto.

It is welcome that you read our little books to Celer, Auctus,
    if, however, what you read also pleases Celer, Auctus.
He ruled my peoples and the Celtic Iberians,
    nor was faith more certain in our world.
So great a reverence troubles me, and I think the ears              5
    to be not those of an auditor, but of a judge.

Omnia misisti mihi Saturnalibus, Vmber,
    munera, contulerant quae tibi quinque dies:
bis senos triplices et dentiscalpia septem;
    his comes accessit spongea, mappa, calix,
semodiusque fabae cum uimine Picenarum              5
    et Laletanae nigra lagona sapae;
paruaque cum canis uenerunt cottana prunis
    et Libycae fici pondere testa grauis.
Vix puto triginta nummorum tota fuisse
    munera, quae grandes octo tulere Syri.              10
Quanto commodius nullo mihi ferre labore
    argenti potuit pondera quinque puer!

You sent me everything at the Saturnalia, Umber—
    gifts which the five days had brought together for you:
a dozen threefold ones and seven tooth-scrapers;
    to these there came along a sponge, a napkin, a cup,
and a half-modius of beans with the wicker of the Picenes,              5
    and a black flagon of Laietanian sapa;
and little cottana came with hoary plums,
    and a jar heavy with the weight of Libyan figs.
I scarcely think the whole gifts were worth thirty coins,
    which eight big Syrians bore.              10
How much more conveniently could a boy have brought me,
    with no labor to me, five pounds of silver!

Semper mane mihi de me mera somnia narras,
    quae moueant animum sollicitentque meum.
Iam prior ad faecem, sed et haec uindemia uenit,
    exorat noctes dum mihi saga tuas;
consumpsi salsasque molas et turis aceruos;              5
    decreuere greges, dum cadit agna frequens;
non porcus, non chortis aues, non oua supersunt.
    Aut uigila aut dormi, Nasidiane, tibi.

Always in the morning you tell me pure dreams about me,
    which move my mind and solicit my concern.
Already the earlier vintage has reached the dregs, and this vintage too has come,
    while a witch is propitiating your nights for me;
I have consumed salted meal and heaps of incense;              5
    the flocks have decreased, while the lamb falls frequent;
no pig, no birds in the coops, no eggs remain.
    Either keep vigil or sleep by yourself, Nasidianus.

Nulli munera, Chreste, si remittis,
nec nobis dederis remiserisque:
credam te satis esse liberalem.
Sed si reddis Apicio Lupoque
et Gallo Titioque Caesioque, 5
linges non mihi — nam proba et pusilla est —
sed quae de Solymis uenit perustis
damnatam modo mentulam tributis.

If you remit gifts to no one, Chrestus,
nor have you given and sent them back to me,
I shall believe you to be sufficiently liberal.
But if you pay them back to Apicius and to Lupus
and to Gallus and to Titius and to Caesius, 5
you will lick not mine — for it is honest and small —
but that cock which has come from scorched Solyma (Jerusalem),
a penis just now condemned with the tributes.

Astra polumque pia cepisti mente, Rabiri,
Parrhasiam mira qui struis arte domum.
Phidiaco si digna Ioui dare templa parabit,
has petet a nostro Pisa Tonante manus.

You have seized the stars and the pole with a pious mind, Rabirius,
you who build the Parrhasian house with wondrous art.
If he prepares to grant temples worthy of Phidian Jove,
Pisa will seek these hands from our Thunderer.

Castora de Polluce Gabinia fecit Achillan:
puVx ajgaqov" fuerat, nunc erit ippovdamo".

Gabinia made, from Pollux, a Castor Achillean:
he had been “good at boxing,” now he will be “horse‑taming.”

Iam sex aut septem nupsisti, Galla, cinaedis,
    dum coma te nimium pexaque barba iuuat;
deinde experta latus mandidoque simillima loro
    inguina nec lassa stare coacta manu,
deseris inbelles thalamos mollemque maritum,              5
    rursus et in similes decidis usque toros.
Quaere aliquem Curios semper Fabiosque loquentem,
    hirsutum et dura rusticitate trucem:
inuenies; sed habet tristis quoque turba cinaedos:
    difficile est uero nubere, Galla, uiro.              10

Now you have married six or seven pathics, Galla,
    while long hair and a well-combed beard please you too much;
then, after trying the flank and loins, very like a chewed thong,
    and the groins not made to stand even when forced by a weary hand,
you desert the unwarlike bridal-bed and the soft husband,              5
    and again you keep falling upon like couches.
Seek someone always talking of the Curii and the Fabii,
    hairy and grim with hard rusticity:
you will find him; but the stern crowd too has pathics:
    it is difficult, Galla, to marry a true man.              10

Non cenat sine apro noster, Tite, Caecilianus:
bellum conuiuam Caecilianus habet.

Our Caecilianus does not dine without a boar, Titus:
Caecilianus has a fine dinner-guest.

Tarpeiae uenerande rector aulae,
quem saluo duce credimus Tonantem,
cum uotis sibi quisque te fatiget
et poscat dare quae dei potestis:
nil pro me mihi, Iuppiter, petenti 5
ne suscensueris uelut superbo.
Te pro Caesare debeo rogare:
pro me debeo Caesarem rogare.

venerable ruler of the Tarpeian hall,
whom, with the leader safe, we believe the Thunderer,
when each man wearies you with vows for himself
and asks you to grant what you gods can:
do not be angry, Jupiter, with me asking nothing for myself, as though proud. 5
I ought to beseech you on behalf of Caesar:
on behalf of myself I ought to beseech Caesar.

Abstulerat totam temerarius institor urbem
    inque suo nullum limine limen erat.
Iussisti tenuis, Germanice, crescere uicos,
    et modo quae fuerat semita, facta uia est.
Nulla catenatis pila est praecincta lagonis              5
    nec praetor medio cogitur ire luto,
stringitur in densa nec caeca nouacula turba
    occupat aut totas nigra popina uias.

The temerarious hawker had carried off the whole city,
    and at his own threshold there was no threshold at all.
You ordered, Germanicus, the slender alleys to grow,
    and what just now had been a footpath has been made a road.
No pillar is girdled with chained flagons              5
    nor is the praetor compelled to go through mid-mire,
nor is the razor drawn amid the dense blind crowd,
    nor does the black cookshop occupy whole streets.

Tonsor, copo, cocus, lanius sua limina seruant.
Nunc Roma est, nuper magna taberna fuit. 10

The barber, the innkeeper, the cook, the butcher keep to their own thresholds.
Now it is Rome; recently it was a great tavern. 10

Reclusis foribus grandes percidis, Amille,
    et te deprendi, cum facis ista, cupis,
ne quid liberti narrent seruique paterni
    et niger obliqua garrulitate cliens.
Non pedicari se qui testatur, Amille,              5
    illud saepe facit quod sine teste facit.

With the doors thrown open you pierce big men, Amillus,
    and you desire to be caught when you do those things,
lest your freedmen and your father’s slaves tell anything,
    and a black client with oblique garrulity.
He who attests that he is not sodomized, Amillus,              5
    often does that thing which he does without a witness.

Perpetui numquam moritura uolumina Sili
    qui legis et Latia carmina digna toga,
Pierios tantum uati placuisse recessus
    credis et Aoniae Bacchica serta comae?
Sacra cothurnati non attigit ante Maronis              5
    impleuit magni quam Ciceronis opus:
hunc miratur adhuc centum grauis hasta uirorum,
    hunc loquitur grato plurimus ore cliens.
Postquam bis senis ingentem fascibus annum
    rexerat adserto qui sacer orbe fuit,              10
emeritos Musis et Phoebo tradidit annos
    proque suo celebrat nunc Helicona foro.

You who read the never-dying volumes of Silius,
    and Latin songs worthy of the toga,
do you believe the Pierian recesses alone pleased the bard,
    and Bacchic garlands for Aonian hair?
He did not touch the sacred things of buskined Maro              5
    before he fulfilled the work of great Cicero:
him the grave spear of a hundred men still admires,
    him many a client speaks of with grateful mouth.
After he had ruled, with twice‑six fasces, the mighty year
    which was sacred for a world set free,              10
he handed over his veteran years to the Muses and to Phoebus,
    and now celebrates Helicon in place of his own Forum.

Qui tonsor fueras tota notissimus urbe
    et post hoc dominae munere factus eques,
Sicanias urbes Aetnaeaque regna petisti,
    Cinname, cum fugeres tristia iura fori.
Qua nunc arte graues tolerabis inutilis annos?              5
    Quid facit infelix et fugitiua quies?
Non rhetor, non grammaticus ludiue magister,
    non Cynicus, non tu Stoicus esse potes,
uendere nec uocem Siculis plausumque theatris:
    quod superest, iterum, Cinname, tonsor eris.              10

You who were a barber most notorious in the whole city
    and after this, by your lady’s gift, made a knight,
you sought Sicilian cities and the Aetnaean realms,
    Cinname, when you fled the gloomy laws of the forum.
By what craft will you now, useless, endure the weighty years?              5
    What does unhappy and fugitive leisure avail?
Neither rhetorician, nor grammarian, nor schoolmaster,
    nor Cynic, nor can you be a Stoic,
nor sell your voice to Sicilian theaters and their applause:
    what remains is this—again, Cinname, you will be a barber.              10

Lis te bis decumae numerantem frigora brumae
conterit una tribus, Gargiliane, foris.
Ah miser et demens! Viginti litigat annis
quisquam cui uinci, Gargiliane, licet?

A lawsuit, as you count the frosts of the twentieth winter,
wears you down, one case at three fora, Gargilianus.
Ah, wretched and senseless! Who litigates for twenty years,
Gargilianus, when he is allowed to lose?

Heredem Fabius Labienum ex asse reliquit:
plus meruisse tamen se Labienus ait.

Fabius left Labienus heir to the whole estate:
yet Labienus says he has merited more.

Pedicat pueros tribas Philaenis
et tentigine saeuior mariti
undenas dolat in die puellas.
Harpasto quoque subligata ludit
et flauescit haphe, grauesque draucis              5
halteras facili rotat lacerto,
et putri lutulenta de palaestra
uncti uerbere uapulat magistri:
nec cenat prius aut recumbit ante
quam septem uomuit meros deunces;              10
ad quos fas sibi tunc putat redire,
cum coloephia sedecim comedit.
Post haec omnia cum libidinatur,
non fellat — putat hoc parum uirile —
sed plane medias uorat puellas.              15

A tribade Philaenis sodomizes boys,
and, more savage than a husband’s erection,
she planes eleven girls in a day.
Girded with a loincloth she also plays harpastum,
and she turns yellow with the haphe, and with heavy draucae she whirls the halterae with an easy upper arm,              5
and, muddy from the rotten palaestra,
she is thrashed by the lash of the oiled master:
nor does she dine first or recline before
she has vomited seven deunces neat;              10
to which she then thinks it right to return,
when she has eaten sixteen coloephia.
After all these things, when she is lusting,
she does not fellate — she thinks this too little virile —
but plainly she devours girls down the middle.              15

Di mentem tibi dent tuam, Philaeni,
cunnum lingere quae putas uirile.

May the gods give you your own mind, Philaenis,
you who think that to lick cunt is virile.

Commendare meas, Instanti Rufe, Camenas
parce, precor, socero: seria forsan amat.
Quod si lasciuos admittit et ille libellos,
haec ego uel Curio Fabricioque legam.

Do not, I pray, Instantius Rufus, commend my Muses
to your father-in-law: perhaps he loves serious things.
But if he too admits lascivious little books,
I will read these even to Curio and to Fabricius.

Haec est illa tibi promissa Theophila, Cani,
    cuius Cecropia pectora dote madent.
Hanc sibi iure petat magni senis Atticus hortus,
    nec minus esse suam Stoica turba uelit.
Viuet opus quodcumque per has emiseris aures;              5
    tam non femineum nec populare sapit.

Here is that Theophila promised to you, Canus,
    whose breast is drenched with a Cecropian dowry.
Let the Attic Garden of the great old man by right claim her for itself,
    nor would the Stoic crowd wish her less to be its own.
Whatever work you send forth through these ears will live;              5
    so little does it savor of the feminine nor of the popular.

Non tua Pantaenis nimium se praeferat illi,
quamuis Pierio sit bene nota choro.
Carmina fingentem Sappho laudabat amatrix:
castior haec et non doctior illa fuit. 10

Let not your Pantaenis too much set herself before that one,
although she is well known to the Pierian chorus.
A lover praised Sappho fashioning songs:
this one was more chaste, and that one was not more learned. 10

Ipsarum tribadum tribas, Philaeni,
recte, quam futuis, uocas amicam.

The tribade of tribades themselves, Philaenis,
you rightly call the one you screw your friend.

Ficosa est uxor, ficosus et ipse maritus,
    filia ficosa est et gener atque nepos,
nec dispensator nec uilicus ulcere turpi
    nec rigidus fossor, sed nec arator eget.
Cum sint ficosi pariter iuuenesque senesque,              5
    res mira est, ficos non habet unus ager.

Figgy is the wife, and figgy the husband himself,
    the daughter is figgy, and the son-in-law and the grandson;
neither the dispensator nor the vilicus lacks the shameful ulcer,
    nor the rigid digger, nor yet does the ploughman lack it.
Since both the young and the old alike are figgy,              5
    it is a marvelous thing: not a single field has figs.

Gratus sic tibi, Paule, sit December
nec uani triplices breuesque mappae
nec turis ueniant leues selibrae,
sed lances ferat et scyphos auorum
aut grandis reus aut potens amicus,              5
seu quod te potius iuuat capitque;
sic uincas Nouiumque Publiumque
mandris et uitreo latrone clusos;
sic palmam tibi de trigone nudo
unctae det fauor arbiter coronae              10
nec laudet Polybi magis sinistras:
si quisquam mea dixerit malignus
atro carmina quae madent ueneno,
ut uocem mihi commodes patronam
et quantum poteris, sed usque, clames:              15

So may December be pleasing to you, Paul,
and may neither vain triple and brief napkins
nor light half‑pounds of incense come,
but let either a great defendant or a powerful friend bring platters and the cups of your ancestors, 5
or whatever rather pleases and captivates you;
thus may you defeat Novius and Publius,
shut up with their droves and with the glassy robber;
thus may favor, arbiter of the oiled crown,
give you the palm from the naked trigon, 10
nor praise more the left hands of Polybus:
if any spiteful person should say that my songs
are dripping with black poison,
that you lend to me a patron’s voice
and, as much as you can—yet unceasingly—shout:

"Non scripsit meus ista Martialis."

"My Martial did not write those things."

Esquiliis domus est, domus est tibi colle Dianae,
    et tua patricius culmina uicus habet;
hinc uiduae Cybeles, illinc sacraria Vestae,
    inde nouum, ueterem prospicis inde Iouem.
Dic ubi conueniam, dic qua te parte requiram;              5
    quisquis ubique habitat, Maxime, nusquam habitat.

You have a house on the Esquiline, you have a house on Diana’s hill,
    and a patrician quarter holds your rooftops;
from here those of widowed Cybele, from there the shrines of Vesta,
    from there you look out on the new Jove, from there on the old Jove.
Say where I may meet you, say in what part I should seek you;              5
    whoever dwells everywhere, Maximus, dwells nowhere.

Cyllenes caelique decus, facunde minister,
    aurea cui torto uirga dracone uiret:
sic tibi lasciui non desit copia furti,
    siue cupis Paphien seu Ganymede cales;
maternaeque sacris ornentur frondibus Idus              5
    et senior parca mole prematur auus:
hunc semper Norbana diem cum coniuge Carpo
    laeta colat, primis quo coiere toris.
Hic pius antistes sophiae sua dona ministrat,
    hic te ture uocat fidus et ipse Ioui.              10

Cyllene’s and heaven’s ornament, eloquent minister,
    whose golden wand is green with a coiled serpent:
so may there not be lacking to you a supply of playful theft,
    whether you desire the Paphian or burn for Ganymede;
and let the maternal Ides be adorned with sacred fronds,              5
    and let the elder grandsire be pressed by a modest mound:
let Norbana always celebrate this day with her husband Carpus
    joyfully, the day on which they came together on their first marriage-beds.
Here the dutiful priest dispenses his gifts of wisdom,
    here he calls you with incense to Jove, faithful, and he himself as well.              10

Vis futui gratis, cum sis deformis anusque.
Res perridicula est: uis dare nec dare uis.

You want to be fucked gratis, since you are deformed and an old woman.
It is a very ridiculous thing: you want to give and yet you do not want to give.

Quod te diripiunt potentiores
per conuiuia, porticus, theatra,
et tecum, quotiens ita incidisti,
gestari iuuat, et iuuat lauari:
nolito nimium tibi placere. 5
Delectas, Philomuse, non amaris.

Because the more powerful snatch you up
through banquets, porticoes, theaters,
and with you, whenever you have thus chanced,
it pleases them to be carried about, and it pleases them to bathe:
do not be overly pleased with yourself. 5
You delight, Philomuse, you are not loved.

Exigis ut nostros donem tibi, Tucca, libellos.
Non faciam: nam uis uendere, non legere.

You demand that I donate to you my little books, Tucca.
I will not do it: for you wish to sell, not to read.

Cum Saxetani ponatur coda lacerti
et, bene si cenas, conchis inuncta tibi,
sumen, aprum, leporem, boletos, ostrea, mullos
mittis: habes nec cor, Papyle, nec genium.

When the tail of a Saxetanian lizard-fish is set out,
and, if you dine well, anointed for you with shellfish,
sow’s udder, boar, hare, boletes, oysters, mullets
you send: you have neither heart, Papylus, nor a genius.

Potaui modo consulare uinum.
Quaeris quam uetus atque liberale?
Prisco consule conditum: sed ipse
qui ponebat erat, Seuere, consul.

I have just drunk consular wine.
You ask how old and liberal?
Laid down under Consul Priscus: but the man himself
who was setting it out, Severe, was a consul.

Quatenus Odrysios iam pax Romana triones
    temperat et tetricae conticuere tubae,
hunc Marcellino poteris, Faustine, libellum
    mittere: iam chartis, iam uacat ille iocis.
Sed si parua tui munuscula quaeris amici              5
    commendare, ferat carmina nostra puer:
non qualis Geticae satiatus lacte iuuencae
    Sarmatica rigido ludit in amne rota,
sed Mitylenaei roseus mangonis ephebus
    uel non caesus adhuc matre iubente Lacon.              10
At tibi captiuo famulus mittetur ab Histro
    qui Tiburtinas pascere possit oues.

Since the Roman peace now tempers the Odrysian northlands
    and the austere trumpets have fallen silent,
you can send this little book to Marcellinus, Faustinus,
    now he has leisure for papers, now for jests.
But if you seek to commend small gifts of your friend              5
    let a boy carry our poems:
not the kind who, sated with the milk of a Getic heifer,
    plays on a Sarmatian wheel upon the rigid river,
but a rosy ephebe of a Mytilenaean dealer,
    or a Laconian not yet flogged at his mother’s bidding.              10
But for you a servant will be sent from the captive Danube
    who can pasture the Tiburtine sheep.

"Triginta toto mala sunt epigrammata libro."
Si totidem bona sunt, Lause, bonus liber est.

"Thirty epigrams in the whole book are bad."
If just as many are good, Lause, the book is good.

Menophili penem tam grandis fibula uestit
    ut sit comoedis omnibus una satis.
Hunc ego credideram — nam saepe lauamur in unum —
    sollicitum uoci parcere, Flacce, suae:
dum ludit media populo spectante palaestra,              5
    delapsa est misero fibula: uerpus erat.

A fibula so huge clothes Menophilus’s penis
    that a single one would be enough for all the comedians.
This man I had believed — for we often bathe in the same place —
    to be anxious to spare his voice, Flaccus:
while he plays in the middle of the palaestra with the people watching,              5
    the fibula slipped from the poor fellow: he was circumcised.

Eutrapelus tonsor dum circuit ora Luperci
expingitque genas, altera barba subit.

Eutrapelus the barber, while he circles the face of Lupercus
and sketches the cheeks, another beard comes up.

Dum mea Caecilio formatur imago Secundo
    spirat et arguta picta tabella manu,
i, liber, ad Geticam Peucen Histrumque iacentem:
    haec loca perdomitis gentibus ille tenet.
Parua dabis caro, sed dulcia, dona sodali:              5
    certior in nostro carmine uoltus erit;
casibus hic nullis, nullis delebilis annis
    uiuet, Apelleum cum morietur opus.

While my portrait is being shaped by Caecilius Secundus,
    the painted panel breathes beneath a deft, bright hand;
go, book, to Getic Peuce and the Hister lying there:
    these places he holds, the gentes thoroughly subdued.
Small gifts you will give a dear comrade, but sweet ones;              5
    his visage will be truer in our carmen;
here he will live, erasable by no mishaps, by no years,
    when the Apellean work will die.

Quod non insulse scribis tetrasticha quaedam,
disticha quod belle pauca, Sabelle, facis,
laudo nec admiror. Facile est epigrammata belle
scribere. Sed librum scribere difficile est.

That you write certain tetrastichs not unwittily,
that you make a few distichs nicely, Sabellus,
I praise and do not marvel. It is easy to write epigrams nicely
to write. But to write a book is difficult.

Ad natalicias dapes uocabar,
essem cum tibi, Sexte, non amicus.
Quid factum est, rogo, quid repente factum est,
post tot pignora nostra, post tot annos
quod sum praeteritus uetus sodalis? 5
Sed causam scio. Nulla uenit a me
Hispani tibi libra pustulati
nec leuis toga nec rudes lacernae.

I used to be called to natal feasts,
when I was not a friend to you, Sextus.
What has happened, I ask, what has suddenly happened,
after so many pledges of ours, after so many years,
that I, an old companion, have been passed over? 5
But I know the cause. No pound of Spanish pock‑marked chickpeas
comes to you from me, nor a light toga nor rough lacernae.

Non est sportula quae negotiatur;
pascis munera, Sexte, non amicos. 10
Iam dices mihi "Vapulet uocator."

It is not the sportula that is negotiated;
you nourish gifts, Sextus, not friends. 10
Now you will say to me, "Let the inviter be flogged."

Si meus aurita gaudet lagalopece Flaccus,
    si fruitur tristi Canius Aethiope;
Publius exiguae si flagrat amore catellae,
    si Cronius similen cercopithecon amat;
delectat Marium si perniciosus ichneumon,              5
    pica salutatrix si tibi, Lause, placet;
si gelidum collo nectit Cadilla draconem,
    luscinio tumulum si Telesilla dedit:
blanda Cupidinei cur non amet ora Labyrtae
    qui uidet haec dominis monstra placere suis?              10

If my Flaccus rejoices in a long‑eared lagalopex,
    if Canius takes pleasure in a gloomy Aethiopian;
if Publius burns with love for a tiny little catella,
    if Cronius loves a cercopithecus look‑alike;
if the pernicious ichneumon delights Marius,              5
    if a greeting magpie pleases you, Laus;
if Cadilla fastens a chilly dragon to her neck,
    if Telesilla has given a tomb to a nightingale:
why should he not love the coaxing, Cupid‑like face of Labyrtas,
    who sees these monsters please their own masters?              10

Fertur habere meos, si uera est fama, libellos
    inter delicias pulchra Vienna suas.
Me legit omnis ibi senior iuuenisque puerque,
    et coram tetrico casta puella uiro.
Hoc ego maluerim quam si mea carmina cantent              5
    qui Nilum ex ipso protinus ore bibunt;
quam meus Hispano si me Tagus impleat auro
    pascat et Hybla meas, pascat Hymettos apes.

It is said to have my little books, if rumor is true,
    among her delights, fair Vienna.
I am read there by everyone, the old man and the youth and the boy,
    and the chaste girl before a grim husband.
This I would prefer rather than if my songs were to be sung              5
    by those who drink the Nile straight from its very mouth;
rather than if my Tagus should fill me with Spanish gold
    and Hybla should pasture my bees, Hymettus should pasture them.

Non nihil ergo sumus nec blandae munere linguae
decipimur: credam iam puto, Lause, tibi. 10

Therefore we are not nothing, nor by the gift of a flattering tongue
are we deceived: I think I will now believe you, Lause. 10

I, felix rosa, mollibusque sertis
nostri cinge comas Apollinaris.
Quas tu nectere candidas, sed olim,
sic te semper amet Venus, memento.

Go, happy rose, and with soft garlands
wreathe the tresses of our Apollinaris.
Remember to weave them candid, as once—
so may Venus always love you.

Iactat inaequalem Matho me fecisse libellum:
si uerum est, laudat carmina nostra Matho.
Aequales scribit libros Caluinus et Vmber:
aequalis liber est, Cretice, qui malus est.

Matho boasts that I have made an unequal little book:
if it is true, Matho praises our poems.
Calvinus and Umber write equal books:
equal is the book, Creticus, that is bad.

De nostro, facunde, tibi, Iuuenalis, agello
Saturnalicias mittimus, ecce, nuces.
Cetera lasciuis donauit poma puellis
mentula custodis luxuriosa dei.

From our little plot, eloquent Juvenal, to you
behold, we send Saturnalian nuts.
The other fruits to lascivious girls has donated
the lustful phallus of the guardian god.

"Si quid opus fuerit, scis me non esse rogandum"
    uno bis dicis, Baccara, terque die.
Appellat rigida tristis me uoce Secundus:
    audis et nescis, Baccara, quid sit opus.
Pensio te coram petitur clareque palamque:              5
    audis et nescis, Baccara, quid sit opus.

"If anything should be needed, you know that I need not be asked"
    you say it twice in one day, Baccara, and thrice in a day.
Secundus calls me with a rigid, gloomy voice:
    you hear and you do not know, Baccara, what is needed.
The rent is demanded of you in my presence, clearly and openly:              5
    you hear and you do not know, Baccara, what is needed.

Esse queror gelidasque mihi tritasque lacernas:
audis et nescis, Baccara, quid sit opus.
Hoc opus est, subito fias ut sidere mutus,
dicere ne possis, Baccara "Si quid opus." 10

I complain that my cloaks are icy and worn-out:
you hear and do not know, Baccara, what is needed.
This is what is needed: that you suddenly be struck dumb by a star,
so that you cannot say, Baccara, "If there is any need." 10

Narnia, sulphureo quam gurgite candidus amnis
    circuit, ancipiti uix adeunda iugo,
quid tam saepe meum nobis abducere Quintum
    te iuuat et lenta detinuisse mora?
Quid Nomentani causam mihi perdis agelli,              5
    propter uicinum qui pretiosus erat?
Sed iam parce mihi, nec abutere, Narnia, Quinto:
    perpetuo liceat sic tibi ponte frui.

Narnia, which a bright-white river encircles with a sulfurous whirlpool
    scarcely to be approached by a perilous ridge,
why does it please you so often to abduct my Quintus from us
    and to have detained him by a sluggish delay?
Why do you ruin for me the case of the Nomentan little field,              5
    because it was precious on account of being near?
But now spare me, and do not abuse, Narnia, Quintus:
    may it thus be permitted for you to enjoy your bridge perpetually.

Vnguentum fuerat, quod onyx modo parua gerebat:
olfecit postquam Papylus, ecce, garumst.

It had been perfume, which a small onyx-vessel was just now bearing:
after Papylus smelled it, look—it's garum.

Bruma est et riget horridus December,
audes tu tamen osculo niuali
omnes obuius hinc et hinc tenere
et totam, Line, basiare Romam.
Quid posses grauiusque saeuiusque 5
percussus facere atque uerbaratus?
Hoc me frigore basiet nec uxor
blandis filia nec rudis labellis,
sed tu dulcior elegantiorque,
cuius liuida naribus caninis 10
dependet glacies rigetque barba,
qualem forficibus metit supinis
tonsor Cinyphio Cilix marito.

It is midwinter and horrid December is rigid with cold,
yet you dare, with a snowy kiss,
to, meeting people on this side and that, take hold of everyone
and, Linus, to kiss all Rome.
What could you do more grievous and more savage 5
than, struck and scourged, to do this?
In this cold neither wife will kiss me
nor daughter with coaxing little lips nor with artless little lips,
but you, sweeter and more elegant,
from whose canine nostrils a livid ice hangs and the beard is rigid, 10
such as with upturned shears the barber reaps,
a Cilician barber, from a Cinyphian husband.

Centum occurrere malo cunnilingis
et Gallum timeo minus recentem. 15

I would rather run into a hundred cunnilingers
and I fear a newly-castrated Gallus less. 15

Quare si tibi sensus est pudorque,
hibernas, Line, basiationes
in mensem rogo differas Aprilem.

Therefore, if you have sense and modesty,
the wintry kissings, Line, I ask you to defer
to the month April.

Conditus hic ego sum Bassi dolor, Vrbicus infans,
    cui genus et nomen maxima Roma dedit.
Sex mihi de prima derant trieteride menses,
    ruperunt tetricae cum male pensa deae.
Quid species, quid lingua mihi, quid profuit aetas?              5
    da lacrimas tumulo, qui legis ista, meo:
sic ad Lethaeas, nisi Nestore serior, undas
    non eat, optabis quem superesse tibi.

Here I am interred, the grief of Bassus, Urbicus, an infant,
    to whom the greatest Rome gave lineage and name.
Six months were lacking to me from my first triennium,
    when the grim goddesses ill broke the allotted threads.
What did beauty, what tongue, what age profit me?              5
    give tears to my tomb, you who read these things:
so may he, whom you wish to outlive you, not go to the Lethean waves,
    unless later than Nestor.

Nosti si bene Caesium, libelle,
montanae decus Vmbriae Sabinum,
Auli municipem mei Pudentis,
illi tu dabis haec uel occupato.
Instent mille licet premantque curae, 5
nostris carminibus tamen uacabit.
Nam me diligit ille proximumque
Turni nobilibus legit libellis.

If you know Caesius well, little book,
Sabinus, the glory of mountainous Umbria,
the fellow-townsman of my Aulus Pudens,
to him you shall give these, even if he is busy.
Though a thousand cares may press and bear down, 5
nevertheless he will have leisure for our songs.
For he loves me, and as next
he reads me after Turnus’s noble little books.

O quantum tibi nominis paratur!
O quae gloria! Quam frequens amator; 10
te conuiuia, te forum sonabit
aedes compita porticus tabernae.

O how much renown is being prepared for you!
O what glory! How many admirers; 10
with you the banquets, with you the forum will resound—
the temples, crossroads, porticoes, and taverns.

Vni mitteris, omnibus legeris.

You are sent to one, you will be read by all.

Omnia, Castor, emis. Sic fiet ut omnia uendas.

You buy everything, Castor. Thus it will come about that you vend everything.

Sic placidum uideas semper, Crispine, Tonantem
    nec te Roma minus quam tua Memphis amet,
carmina Parrhasia si nostra legentur in aula,
    (namque solent sacra Caesaris aure frui)
dicere de nobis ut lector candidus aude              5
    "Temporibus praestat non nihil iste tuis,
nec Marso nimium minor est doctoque Catullo."
    Hoc satis est: ipsi cetera mando deo.

Thus may you always see the Thunderer placid, Crispinus,
    nor may Rome love you less than your Memphis,
if our songs are read in the Parrhasian hall,
    (for they are wont to enjoy the sacred ear of Caesar)
so that a candid reader may dare to say of us:              5
    "He contributes not a little to your times,
nor is he too much inferior to Marsus and learned Catullus."
    This is enough: the rest I commit to the god himself.