Today | News | Books | Recipes Adventure | Science Fiction | Ghost stories | Poetry | Children | History Bookvoured the slain, And their huge bones lay whitening on the plain, 370 His high-born colleague to his worth gave way, And took, well pleased, the secondary bay. The Decii were plebeians! mean their name, And mean the parent stock from which they came: Yet they devoted, in the trying hour, 375 Their heads to Earth, and each infernal Power; And by that solemn act, redeemed from fate, } Auxiliars, legions, all the Latian state; } More prized than those they saved, in heaven's just estimate! } And him, who graced the purple which he wore 380 (The last good king of Rome), a bondmaid bore. The Consul's sons (while storms yet shook the state, And Tarquin thundered vengeance at the gate), Who should, to crown the labors of their sire, Have dared what Cocles, Mutius, might admire, 385 And she, who mocked the javelins whistling round, And swam the Tiber, then the empire's bound; Had to the tyrant's rage the town exposed, But that a slave their dark designs disclosed.-- For Him, when stretched upon his honored bier, 390 The grateful matrons shed the pious tear, While, with stern eye, the patriot and the sire Saw, by the axe, the high-born pair expire: They fell--just victims to the offended laws, And the first sacrifice to FREEDOM'S cause! 395 For me, who naught but innate worth admire, I'd rather vile Thersites were thy sire, So thou wert like Achilles, and could'st wield Vulcanian arms, the terror of the field, Than that Achilles should thy father be, 400 And, in his offspring, vile Thersites see. And yet, how high soe'er thy pride may trace The long-forgotten founders of thy race, Still must the search with that Asylum end, From whose polluted source we all descend. 405 Haste then, the inquiry haste; secure to find Thy sire some vagrant slave, some bankrupt hind, Some--but I mark the kindling glow of shame, And will not shock thee with a baser name. SATIRE IX. JUVENAL, NÆVOLUS. Juv. still drooping, Nævolus! What, prithee, say, Portends this show of grief from day to day, This copy of flayed Marsyas? what dost thou With such a rueful face, and such a brow, As Ravola wore, when caught--Not so cast down 5 Looked Pollio, when, of late, he scoured the town, And, proffering treble rate, from friend to friend, Found none so foolish, none so mad, to lend! But, seriously, for thine's a serious case, Whence came those sudden wrinkles in thy face? 10 I knew thee once, a gay, light-hearted slave, Contented with the little fortune gave; A sprightly guest, of every table free, And famed for modish wit and repartee. Now all's reversed: dejected is thy mien, 15 Thy locks are like a tangled thicket seen; And every limb, once smoothed with nicest care, Rank with neglect, a shrubbery of hair! What dost thou with that dull, dead, withered look, Like some old debauchee, long ague-shook? 20 All is not well within; for, still we find The face the unerring index of the mind, And as THIS feels or fancies joys or woes, THAT pales with sorrow, or with rapture glows. What should I think? Too sure the scene is changed, 25 And thou from thy old course of life estranged: For late, as I remember, at all haunts, Where dames of fashion flock to hire gallants, At Isis and at Ganymede's abodes, At Cybele's, dread mother of the gods, 30 Nay, at chaste Ceres' (for at shame they spurn, And even her temples now to brothels turn), None was so famed: the favorites of the town, Baffled alike in business and renown, Murmuring retired; wives, daughters, were thy own, 35 And--if the truth MUST come--not THEY alone. NÆV. Right: and to some this trade has answered yet; But not to me: for what is all I get? A drugget cloak, to save my gown from rain, } Coarse in its texture, dingy in its grain, } 40 And a few pieces of the "second vein!" } FATE GOVERNS ALL. Fate, with full sway, presides Even o'er those parts, which modest nature hides; And little, if her genial influence fail, Will vigor stead, or boundless powers avail: 45 Though Virro, gloating on your naked charms, Foam with desire, and woo you to his arms, With many a soothing, many a flattering phrase-- For your cursed pathics have such winning ways! Hear now this prodigy, this mass impure, 50 Of lust and avarice! "Let us, friend, be sure: I've given thee this, and this;--now count the sums:" (He counts, and woos the while), "behold! it comes To five sestertia, five!--now, look again, And see how much it overpays thy pain:" 55 What! "overpays?"--but you are formed for love, And worthy of the cup and couch of Jove! --Will those relieve a client!--those, who grudge A wretched pittance to the painful drudge That toils in their disease?--O mark, my friend, 60 The blooming youth, to whom we presents send, Or on the Female Calends, or the day Which gave him birth! in what a lady-way He takes our favors as he sits in state, And sees adoring crowds besiege his gate! 65 Insatiate sparrow! whom do your domains, Your numerous hills await, your numerous plains? Regions, that such a tract of land embrace, That kites are tired within the unmeasured space! For you the purple vine luxuriant glows, 70 On Trifoline's plain, and on Misenus' brows; And hollow Gaurus, from his fruitful hills, Your spacious vaults with generous nectar fills: What were it, then, a few poor roods to grant To one so worn with lechery and want? 75 Sure yonder female, with the child she bred, The dog their playmate, and their little shed, Had, with more justice, been conferred on me, Than on a cymbal-beating debauchee! "I'm troublesome," you say, when I apply, 80 "And give! give! give! is my eternal cry."-- But house-rent due solicits to be sped, And my sole slave, importunate for bread, Follows me, clamoring in as loud a tone As Polyphemus, when his prey was flown. 85 Nor will this one suffice, the toil's so great! Another must be bought; and both must eat. What shall I say, when cold December blows, And their bare limbs shrink at the driving snows, What shall I say, their drooping hearts to cheer? 90 "Be merry, boys, the spring will soon be here!" But though my other merits you deny, One yet must be allowed--that had not I, I, your devoted client, lent my aid, Your wife had to this hour remained a maid. 95 You know what motives urged me to the deed, And what was promised, could I but succeed:-- Oft in my arms the flying fair I caught, And back to your cold bed, reluctant, brought, Even when she'd canceled all her former vows, 100 And now was signing to another spouse. What pains it cost to set these matters right, While you stood whimpering at the door all night, I spare to tell:--a friend like me has tied Full many a knot, when ready to divide. 105 Where will you turn you now, sir? whither fly? What, to my charges, first, or last, reply? Is it no merit, speak, ungrateful! none, To give you thus a daughter, or a son, Whom you may breed with credit at your |