No More Learning

The medical profession as usual comes in for some of those touches which we are ready enough to give or to enjoy when we are not actually in their hands.
A Convenient Partnership. (Anonymous. )
Damon, who plied the Undertaker's trade, With Doctor Crateas an agreement made.
What linens Damon from the dead could seize, He to the doctor sent for bandages ;
While the good Doctor, here no promise breaker, Sent all his patients to the Undertaker.
Grammar and Medicine. (By Agathias. )
A thriving doctor sent his son to school
To gain some knowledge, should he prove no fool ; But took him soon away with little warning,
On finding out the lesson he was learning —
How great Pelides' wrath, in Homer's rhyme,
Sent many souls to Hades ere their time.
"No need for this my boy should hither come ; That lesson he can better learn at home —
For I myself, now, I make bold to say,
Send many souls to Hades ere their day,
Nor e'er find want of Grammar stop my way. "
Musical attempts, when unsuccessful, are a fruitful and fail subject of ridicule. The following is by Nicarchus : —
Men die when the night raven sings or cries : But when Dick sings, e'en the night raven dies.
102
WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY.
Compensation.
(By Leonidas. )
The harper Simylus, the whole night through, Harped till his music all the neighbors slew : All but deaf Origen, for whose dull ears Nature atoned by giving length of years.
The Musical Doctor.
(By Ammianus : the translation altered from Wellesley. )
Nicias, a doctor and musician, Lies under very foul suspicion. He sings, and without any shame
He murders all the finest music : Does he prescribe ? our fate's the same,
If he shall e'er find me or you sick.
Unsuccessful painters, too, are sneered at. This is by Lucilius : —
Eutychus many portraits made, and many sons begot ; But, strange to say ! none ever saw a likeness in the lot.
Compliments to the fair sex are often paid by the epigram matists in a manner at once witty and graceful.
We have seen how Sappho was described as a tenth Muse ; but this epigram by an unknown author goes further. The translation is old and anonymous, though borrowed apparently from one by Swift, on which it has improved. It has been slightly altered : —
The world must now two Venuses adore ; Ten are the Muses, and the Graces four. Such Dora's wit, so fair her form and face, She's a new Muse, a Venus, and a Grace.
We find an adaptation of this to an accomplished lady, in an old magazine : —
Now the Graces are four and the Venuses two, And ten is the number of Muses ;
For a Muse and a Grace and a Venus are you, My dear little Molly Trefusis.
Cornish
WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 103
Finally, we have another edition of this idea with a bit of satire at the end, which has been maliciously added by the translator: —
Of Graces four, of Muses ten,
Of Venuses now two are seen ;
Doris shines forth to dazzled men,
A Grace, a Muse, and Beauty's Queen ; —
But let me whisper one thing more ; The Furies now are likewise four.
The faults and foibles of women, springing often so natu rally from their innate wish to please, have not escaped such of the epigrammatists as were inclined to satire, and some of them are bitter enough. The first we give must have been occasioned by some irritating disappointment, or have sprung from an un worthy opinion of the sex. It is by our friend Palladas : —
All wives are plagues ; yet two blest times have they, — Their bridal first, and then their burial day.
The others we give are less sweeping, and more directed against individual failings, particularly the desire to appear more beautiful or more youthful than the facts warranted. This is by Lucilius : —
Chloe, those locks of raven hair, — Some people say you dye them black ;
But that's a libel, I can swear,
For I know where you buy them black.
Our next deals with a very systematic dyer and getter-up of artificial juvenility, who seems to have been her own Madame Rachel. The Greek is Lucian's, and the translation by Meri- vale. There is also one by Cowper, which will be found among his works : —
Yes, you may dye your hair, but not your age, Nor smooth, alas ! the wrinkles of your face :
Yes, you may varnish o'er the telltale page, And wear a mask for every vanished grace.
But there's an end. No Hecuba, by aid Of rouge and ceruse, is a Helen made. "
The inactive habits of most of the Greek women are thought to have created a temptation to the use of these artificial modes of heightening the complexion, which would have been better
104 WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY.
effected by the natural pigments laid on by fresh air and exercise.
This is by Nicarchus, upon an old woman wishing to be married at rather an advanced period of life : —
This Lucilius
Niconoe has doubtless reached her prime : Yes, for she did so in Deucalion's time.
We don't know as to that, but think her doom Less fitted for a husband than a tomb.
also is upon an old, or at least a plain woman, by : —
Gellia, your mirror's false ; you could not bear, If it were true, to see your image there.
On a Woman scornful in Youth plating the Coquette when Old.
(By Ruflnus. )
You now salute me graciously, when gone
Your beauty's power, that once like marble shone ; You now look sweet, though forced to hide away Those locks that o'er your proud neck used to stray. Vain are your arts : your faded charms I scorn;
The rose now past, I care not for the thorn.
Upon a Lady's Coy, Reluctant, "Unamorous" Delay.
(By Ruflnua. )
How long, hard Prodice, am I to kneel,
And pray and whine, to move that breast of steel ?
I
We soon shall be — just Hecuba and Priam.
You e'en are getting gray, as much as
am ;
Deafness is an infirmity which is a proper object, not of ridicule, but of pity ; but then the deaf person should not pre tend to hear when he or she cannot, as was the case with the old lady now to be noticed : —
On a Deaf Housekeeper.
(Paraphrased. )
Of all life's plagues I recommend to no man To hire as a domestic a deaf woman.
WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 105
I've got one who my orders does not hear, Mishears them rather, and keeps blundering near. Thirsty and hot, I asked her for a drink ;
She bustled out, and brought me back some ink. Eating a good rump steak, I called for mustard; Away she went, and whipped me up a custard.
I wanted with my chicken to have ham; Blundering once more, she brought a pot of jam. I wished in season for a cut of salmon,
And what she bought me was a huge fat gammon. I can't my voice raise higher and still higher,
As if I were a herald or town-crier.
'Twould better be if she were deaf outright;
But anyhow she quits my house this night.
Those ladies — generally, of course, such as were
in life — who unblushingly betook themselves to the bottle, are an inevitable subject of satire. It has already been mentioned that even men were considered intemperate who drank wine without a large admixture of water; but apparently the female topers, having once broken bounds, took their wine unmixed.
Epitaph on Mabonis.
This rudely sculptured Cup will show Where gray Maronis lies below.
She talked, and drank strong unmixed stuff, Both of them more than quantum suff.
She does not for her children grieve,
Nor their poor father grudge to leave ;
It only vexes her to think
This drinking cup's not filled with drink.
The last couplet might be more literally translated thus : —
But in the grave she scarcely can lie still,
To think, what Bacchus owns, she can't with Bacchus fill.
Love is sometimes treated of in a vein of pleasantry, very different from the deep and impassioned tone in which it is exhibited in more serious compositions. Take some ex amples : —
advanced
106 WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY.
Is A Black Woman one of the Fair Sex ? (By Meleager. )
By Didyma's beauty I'm carried away ;
I melt, when I see like wax before fire:
She black, true so are coals but even they,
When they're warmed, bright glow like the rose cup acquire.
This by Archias, Cicero's friend and client, written per haps to illustrate some piece of art —
What fly from Love vain hope there's no retreat, When he has wings and have only feet.
This by Crates, translated by Sayers, Southey's friend: —
Cures for Love.
Hunger, perhaps, may cure your love Or time your passion greatly alter
If both should unsuccessful prove, strongly recommend halter.
Venus and the Muses.
(By some said to be Plato's. )
To the Muses said Venus " Maids, mind what you do Honor me, or I'll set my boy Cupid on you. "
Then to Venus the Muses " To Mars chatter thus Your urchin ne'er ventures to fly upon us. "
The light and cheerful way in which poor men speak of their
poverty
often pleasant. Here are some examples
Want a Good Watchdog.
(By Julian the translation by Wellesley. )
Seek a more profitable job,
Good housebreakers, elsewhere
These premises you cannot rob, Want guards them with such care.
—
The Poor Scholar's Admonition to the Mice.
(By Arista)
mice here you come for food, you'd better go elsewhere, For in this cabin, small and rude, you'll find but slender fare.
O
! is if
is ! is is
:
:
:
? : a
it,
:
:
;
:
:
I
:
I it is
a
;
:
WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 107
Go where you'll meet with good fat cheese, and sweet dried figs in plenty,
Where even the scraps will yield with ease a banquet rich and dainty :
If to devour my books you come, you'll rue without question, And find them all, as find some, of very hard digestion.
The folly of fools fair subject of ridicule. This by
—
A blockhead bit by fleas put out the light,
And chuckling cried, Now you can't see to bite.
Lucian
Here — something which the Greeks considered folly, by
Lucian
While others tippled, Sam from drinking shrunk, Which made the rest think Sam alone was drunk.
Without recommending excess, there are good many in vitations to jollity. Here one —
Sober Eubulus, friends, lies here below
So then, let's drink to Hades all must go.
What follows favorite sentiment — perhaps too much so — with the old poets —
Wine to the poet winged steed
Those who drink water come but little speed.
One great poet has existed in our day who was signal excep tion to this alleged rule.
The following by the Emperor ulian, and refers to that substitute for wine which the Germans discovered by ferment ing, or, as Tacitus calls it, corrupting, grain. It does not seem to have pleased the imperial wine drinker. The translation necessarily paraphrastic —
Who whence this, Bacchus for by Bacchus' self, The son of Jove, know not this strange elf.
The other smells like nectar but thou here
Like the he-goat. Those wretched Celts, fear, For want of grapes made thee of ears of corn. Demetrius art thou, of Demeter born, —
Not Bacchus, Dionysus, nor yet wine
Those names but fit the products of the vine
Beer thou mayst be from Barley or, that failing, We'll call thee Ale, for thou wilt keep us ailing.
;
:? J
I ;
:a
?
is
is
is :a
is I:a
I
; a
it,
is : is a
:
:: is
is
108 WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY.
A bath to the Greeks, as we might expect — at least, in their later development — was a great enjoyment, if not a necessity of life. The epigrammatists supply us with many pleasant and playful inscriptions for baths or bathing places, illustrating their virtues and attractions. The purity and freshness of the water are natural themes of eulogium, and the patronage of divine beings is readily supposed. Here is a selection, all of them apparently anonymous : —
This bath may boast the Graces' own to be, — And for that reason it holds only three.
Here bathed the Graces, and at leaving gave Their choicest splendors to requite the wave.
Or thus, which we may suppose written of the draped Graces : —
Here bathed the Graces, and, by way of payment,
Left half their charms when they resumed their raiment.
Here Venus bathed, ere she to Paris' eyes
Displayed the immortal form that gained the prize.
Or thus : —
Straight from this bath went Venus, wet and dripping; To Paris showed herself — and won the pippin.
Either these waves gave Venus birth, or she, Her form here bathing, made them what we see.
On a. Small-sizeo Bath.
Blame not things little : Grace may on them wait. Cupid is little ; but his godhead's great.
We are warned, however, that excess in the use of the warm bath, as in other indulgences, may be injurious : —
Wine and the bath, and lawless love for ladies, Just send us quicker down the hill to Hades.
Some vices are particularly obnoxious to the satirical epi grammatist, especially avarice and envy : —
WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. 109
Stinginess in Hospitality.
(By Pallas: translation altered from Wellesley. )
Most people dine but once, but when we've dined With our friend Salaminus,
We dine again at home, for faith ! we find He did not truly dine us.
Boabd ob Lodging.
(By Lucilius : translation altered from Cowper. )
Asclepiades, the Miser, in his house
Espied one day, with some surprise, a mouse :
" Tell me, dear mouse," he cried, " to what cause is it I owe this pleasant but unlooked-for visit ? "
The mouse said, smiling : " Fear not for your hoard : I
There are several vigorous denunciations of the vice of envy. This is anonymous : —
Envy is vile, but plays a useful part, Torturing in envious men both eyes and heart.
This is in that exaggerated style which the epigrams some times exhibit. It is by Lucilius — the translation from
Wellesley : —
Poor Diophon of envy died, His brother thief to see
Nailed near him, to be crucified, Upon a higher tree.
come, my friend, to lodge, and not to board. "
But the best epigram on this subject is to be found in one which seems to describe a picture of Momus the fault finder, the impersonation of Envy, perhaps also, some will say, of Criticism, — the Power who could produce nothing excellent himself, and who never saw unmixed excellence in the works of others. The picture is supposed to have been by Apelles. The epigram is anonymous ; the translation partly from Hay : —
Who here has formed, with faultless hand and skill, Fault-finding Momus, source of endless ill ?
On the bare earth his aged limbs are thrown,
110
WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY.
As if in life, to lie and sigh and groan.
His frame is wasted, and his scanty hairs
One trembling hand from his thin temple tears :
With his old staff the other strikes the ground,
Which all insensate to the blows is found.
In double row his gnashing teeth declare
How much his neighbor's weal o'erwhelms him with despair.
Swift made a well-known epitaph upon Vanbrugh as an
architect : —
Lie heavy on him, earth, for he Laid many a heavy load on thee.
This is nearly the counterpart of the following Greek epi gram : —
Hail, Mother Earth ! lie light on him Whose tombstone here we see :
^Esigenes, his form was slim, And light his weight on thee.
A similar request is made in another epigram by Ammianus, but with a very different feeling. The translation is by Merivale : —
Light lie the earth, Nearchus, on thy clay, — That so the dogs may easier find their prey.
This anonymous epigram is upon a matricide, who does not deserve burial : —
Bury him not ! no burial is for him :
Let hungry dogs devour him limb by limb.
Our general Mother, Earth, on her kind breast Will ne'er allow a matricide to rest.
The satirical epigrammatists indulge often in national in vective, and indeed the Greeks were too fond of abusing some of their neighbors. Here are specimens : —
A viper bit a Cappadocian's hide ;
But 'twas the viper, not the man, that died.
The natives of many other countries besides Cappadocia were called bad : among the rest the Lerians ; thus : —
Lerians are bad : not some bad, and some not,
But all ; there's not a Lerian in the lot, — Save Procles, that you could a good man call ; And Procles — is a Lerian after all.
WIT AND SATIRE OF THE GREEK ANTHOLOGY. Ill
Our readers will here recognize the original of a well-known epigram by Porson, which exists both in a Greek and English shape, and where the satirist, after denouncing the Germans as all ignorant of Greek meters, concludes : —
All, save only Hermann ; — And Hermann's a German.
It was unfortunate for poor Hermann that his name and his nationality rhymed so well together.
An epigram may here be given in conclusion on this head, as tending, perhaps, to illustrate the transition by which the satirical Greek epigram came to resemble the favorite style of Martial, which has been so much adopted in modern times.
The epigram we refer to is by Lucilius : —
On a Dkclamatoby Plkadek.
A little pig, an ox, a goat (my only one), I lost,
And Menecles, to plead my cause, I fee'd at some small cost.
I only wanted back my beasts, which seemed my simple due ; Then, Menecles, what had I with Othryades to do ?
I never thought in this affair to charge with any theft
The men who, at Thermopylae, their lives and bodies left.
My suit is with Eutychides ; and if I get decree,
Leonidas and Xerxes both are welcome to go free.
Plead my true case: lest I cry out (I can't my feelings " smother),
The little pig one story tells, and Menecles another. "
This chapter may be concluded with a mild satire upon the conditions of the times, with reference to the two ancient worthies, Heraclitus and Democritus, the weeping and the laughing philosopher. The translation is mainly from Prior : —
Sad Heraclitus with thy tears return ;
Life more than ever gives us cause to mourn. Democritus, dear droll, revisit earth :
Life more than ever gives us cause for mirth.
Between you both I stand in thoughtful pother,
How I should weep with one, how laugh with t'other.
112 FRAGMENTS OF EARLY ROMAN POETS.
FRAGMENTS OF EARLY ROMAN POETS. (In part translated for this work. )
Chant of the Arval Brothers.
Give to us thy help, O Lars !
Suffer not the plague to fall upon thy people, Mars !
Be thy fury sated, Mars ! — [To the dancers.
Leap on the sill :
Let the beating be still. —
Call on the demigods to shield us from ill.
Once again, Mars, we implore! —
Triumph, triumph, triumph, triumph, we will sing it o'er and o'er !
N^EVTUS.
[Flourished about b. c. 235-204. One of the earliest of Roman dramatists, ranked by them as third among their comedians ; but more important as poet, being the forerunner of Roman satiric poetry, and creator of the Roman epic]
On a Coquette.
As if in a ring at play, tossing a ball,
To one after another, the same with them all,
She turns : here a nod, there a wink she bestows :
To one she makes love, to another clings close ;
Here she busies her hand, there a foot she will press ; The next has her ring to inspect and caress ;
There's a kiss blown to one, and she sings with a second, While with signs on her fingers another is beckoned.
Epitaph on Himself.
If e'er o'er beings mortal might sorrow those divine,
Then o'er the poet Naevius would weep the heavenly Nine ; For since the bard was treasured old Orcus' store among, At Rome they have forgotten to speak the Latin tongue.
Plautus.
[See " Mostellaria " for biography. ] Epitaph on Himself.
Since Plautus died, Thalia beats her breast ; The stage is empty : Laughter, Sport, and Jest, And all the tuneless measures, weep distrest.
FRAGMENTS OF EARLY ROMAN POETS. 113
Enkius.
[Usually considered the greatest of Roman poets before the time of Lucre tius, and the real founder of the indigenous Roman school of verse. Born b. c.
239, in the half Greek, half Oscan town of Rudiae, probably educated at Taren- tum, and serving as soldier and centurion till middle age, he came to Rome with Cato the Censor in 204, having a remarkable variety of influences, cultivation, and experience; taught Greek ; went campaigning again ; was intimate with the best families in Rome, a friend of Scipio Major among others, and died b. c 160. He wrote tragedies, satires, a long historical poem called the " Annals," and
other works. ]
Pyrrhus to the Roman Envoy.
[After the early victories of Pyrrhus over the Romans (b. c. 280-279), he sent an embassy to negotiate a peace. They refused, but sent Fabricius to make terms for ransoming the prisoners in Pyrrhus's hands. Ennius puts these words into his mouth in reply, which in substance must be historical. ]
I seek no gold, nor must you offer me
A payment. Let us wage this war together
As soldiers, not as hucksters in the market ;
With steel, not gold — our lives to be the stake. Whether our mistress Fortune purposes
That you or I should rule, or what she wills,
That let us leave to valor. Further, hear
What I now say : the brave man whom the chance Of battle spares to life, his freedom too
I have resolved to spare. Take this my offer Even as I make by the great gods' grace,
Rorr. an Quackery.
value not mite your Marsian augurs,
Your village seers, your market fortune tellers, Egyptian sorcerers, dream interpreters
No prophets they by knowledge or by skill But superstitious quacks, shameless impostors, Lazy or crazy slaves of indigence,
Who tell fine stories for their proper lucre Teach others the highway, and cannot find
A byway for themselves promise us riches, And beg of us drachma — let them give Their riches first, then take their drachma out.
Moral to a Fable.
Learn from my tale this ready saw and true
Ne'er trust your friends for what yourself can do. vol. v. —
8
:
a
a
it,
;;
;
: ;
I
114 FRAGMENTS OF EARLY ROMAN POETS.
The Lament of Andromache. (Translated by W. E. Aytoun. )
Whither shall I flee for refuge ? Whither shall I look for aid ? Flight or exile, which is safer ? Tower and town are both betrayed. Whom shall I implore for succor ? Our old altars are no more, Broken, crushed they lie, and splintered, and the flames above them
roar. —
And our walls all blackened stand
O thou haughty house of Priam — temple with the gates surrounded, I have seen thee — all thy splendor, all thy Eastern pomp unbounded — All thy roofs and painted ceilings — all the treasures they contain,
I have seen them, seen them blazing — I have seen old Priam slain, Foully murdered, and the altar of the Highest bears the stain.
A Possible Portrait of Himself.
Thus speaking, he calls one with whom he is wont, and most gladly, to share
His table and converse alike, and the load of his business and care, When wearied with making great part of the counsel and day-long
debate
In broad Forum and reverend Senate, on highest concerns of the
State ;
To whom matters of moment and trifles and jest he can speak and
be bold, —
Can pour forth all at once, if he wish, good and bad, what there is to
be told,
And put in safe keeping ; with whom both in public and private he
knows
High pleasure and joy ; whom no evil nature the fancies dispose
To base acts out of malice or levity ; learned, and loyal in act, Agreeable, eloquent, cheerful, content with himself, full of tact, Suiting speech to the season, right courteous, with words not too
many for need ;
Versed in buried antiquities, gaining from years and from study the
meed
Of knowing the old ways and new, many laws both of men and
divine ; —
Who knows when the counsels of prudence to speech and to silence
incline.
The Problem of Divine Government.
That the race of gods exists in heaven, I have ever said and say : But I do not think they care how the race of men live out their day ; For then the good would have good, the bad bad, which now is far away.
O my father ! fatherland !
FRAGMENTS OP EARLY ROMAN POETS. 115
Inscription for Tomb of Scipio Major.
Here lies on whom compatriot or foe Meed for his actions never could bestow.
Another for the Same.
From dawn-land, or Maeotis' swamp beyond,
There lives no man whose deeds can match my own.
Could any climb with right the gods' domain, Heaven's mighty gate stands wide to me alone.
To Himself.
Hail, poet Ennius, who to mortal men Pledgest thy flaming verses marrow-born.
His Old Age.
So a strong steed, who oft the race has run Around the vast Olympian course, and won, Now rests in peaceful age, his service done.
Epitaph on Himself.
Why ?
Pacuvius.
[Nephew of Ennius, and like him a native of Brundisium, South Italy ; born b. c. 220, and died about b. c. 130. He was a painter of great celebrity, and held in the front rank of tragic poets. ]
Departure of the Greeks from Troy.
Now the crested billows whiten as the sun is hasting down ; Twofold darkness falls around us, night and storm-clouds blind the
sight;
'Mid the clouds the levin blazes; trembles heaven beneath the
crash ;
Hail with torrent rain commingling, bursts in headlong whirlwind
down ;
All the winds rush forth about us ; sweeps the wild tornado round ; Boils the sea with glowing fury.
Compatriots, come and look upon old Ennius' sculptured form :
He penned your fathers' mighty deeds to keep their memory warm. Let no one honor mine with tears, nor weep the funeral day :
Istill live, and through men's mouths flit to and fro for aye.
116 FRAGMENTS OF EARLY ROMAN POETS.
Epitaph on Himself.
Youth, even though thou art hurrying, this stone asks a boon of thee :
That thou wilt gaze upon then read what its gravings telL Here are the bones of Pacuvius Marcus, the poet, laid.
could wish this, all unknowing what thou mayst be. Farewell.
Attius or Accius.
[Bora b. c. 170 lived to great age, as Cicero when a young man (»i. c. 85- 80) frequently conversed with him. His tragedies are praised by the ancients for vigor of language and elevation of thought. He also wrote annals in verse, like Ennius and prose works. ]
Tarquin — Dialogue between Tarquin and the Diviners.
When at night's urgency gave my frame
To rest, and soothed my languid limbs with sleep, A shepherd seemed in slumber to accost me. . . . Two kindred rams were chosen from the flock,
A fleecy treasure of beauty rare
Whereof slew the fairer on an altar.
Then did his fellow with his horns essay
To butt, and overthrew me on the ground
Where as lay sore wounded in the dirt,
gazed on heaven, and there beheld a sad And wondrous sign the fiery ray-girt sun Passed back in strange disorder to his right.
Diviners —
Good my liege, no marvel the forms of waking thought,
Care, and sight, and deed, and converse, all revisit us in sleep
But we may not pass regardless sight so unforedeemed as this. Wherefore see lest one thou thinkest stupid as the flocks that graze Bear heart with choicest wisdom purified and fortified,
And expel thee from thy kingdom. For the portent of the sun Shows there change impending o'er the people of thy sway.
May the gods avert the omen near the mighty star
From his left to right returning, shows thee clearly as his light That the Roman people's greatness shall become supreme at last
A Shepherd describes his First Sight of a Ship.
The monster bulk sweeps on
Loud from the deep, with mighty roar and panting.
It hurls the waves before stirs up whirlpools On, on bounds dashes back the spray. Awhile, seems bursting tempest cloud
itit
is II
is a
I it
;
;
a
a;it! : it, it if a
;
;
;
; it
is !
I ;
:
a
I
FRAGMENTS OF EARLY ROMAN POETS. 117
Awhile, a rock uprooted by the winds,
And whirled aloft by hurricane ; or masses Beaten by concourse of the crashing waves ;
The sea seems battering o'er the wrecks of land ; Or Triton, from their roots the caves beneath Upturning with his trident, flings to heaven
A rocky mass from out the billowy deep.
Lttcilius.
[Born b. o. 148, at Suessa, on the Santa Croce mountains; died 103, at Naples. He served under Scipio in Spain ; and is said to have been a grand- uncle, if not grandfather, of Pompey the Great. Roman writers proclaim him a satirist of immense vigor and great poetic force, the founder of Roman satirio poetry in its artistic form, and by some regarded as the greatest of all in his own class. ]
The Ideal of Life.
Virtue, Albinus, is the power to give
Their due to objects amid which we live ;
What each possesses, faithfully to scan;
To know the right, the good, the true for man ; Again to know the wrong, the base, the ill ; What we should seek, and how we should fulfill; Honor and wealth at their true worth to prize ; 111 men and deeds repudiate, hate, despise ;
Good men and deeds uphold, promote, defend, Exalt them, seek their welfare, live their friend ; To place our country's interests first alone ;
Our parents' next ; the third and last, our own.
Debating in Place of Action.
But now from morning till night, work-day and holiday too,
The whole day just the same, people and Senate alike
Bustle about in the Forum, and never keep quiet a moment, — Each singly devoting himself to the self-same study and art,
To bandy words with the utmost wariness, fighting with craft, Vying in outward politeness, and plotting — with counterfeit airs Of being virtuous men — as if each were the foe of the rest
Gfrcecomania in Rome.
Albucius, rather by the name of Greek
Than Roman or of Sabine, countryman
Of the Centurions, Pontius and Tritannius, Distinguished men, our foremost, standard-bearers, You would be called. As pretor of Athens, then, Greek as you wish, when you approach, I hail you :
118
FRAGMENTS OF EARLY ROMAN POETS.
" Chaere," I say, " O Titus. " And my lictors, My escort, all my staff, repeat with me,
" Chaere, O Titus. " Then from hence, Albucius, You are my private and my public foe.
The Superstitious Man.
The hobgoblins and bogies set up from Faunus and Numa Pompilius, He trembles before them, there's nothing he does not credit them
with;
As babies imagine all figures of bronze are alive and are men,
So such persons believe that those figments are true, and that souls Indwell in these statues of bronze, — painters' blocks, nothing true,
all a fable.
Vabbo.
[The most learned and one of the most voluminous writers of Rome ; he credits himself with writing 490 books. Born b. c. 116, and deeply studied in Roman antiquities and Greek philosophy, he entered public life, held high naval command against the pirates and Mithradates, was Pompey 's legate in Spain, and held to his side at Fharsalia. Pardoned by Caesar and employed in arranging the great public library, he lived in retirement, but was proscribed by the sec ond triumvirate ; his life was spared, however, and he died b. c. 28 under Augus tus. His " Menippean Satires " formed a model for Petronius, Seneca, Julian, and others. ]
From " Marcipor. "
All suddenly, about the noon of night,
When far the sky, bedropt with fervid fires, Displayed the starry firmamental dance,
The racking clouds, with cold and watery veil,
Closed up the golden hollows of the heaven,
Spouting on mortals Stygian cataracts.
The winds, the frantic offspring of the North,
Burst from the frozen pole, and swept along
Tiles, boughs, and hurricanes of whelming dust.
But we, poor trembling shipwrecked men, like storks Whose wings the double-pinioned thunderbolt
Hath scorched, fell prone in terror on the ground.
From "Prometheus Free. "
I am become like outer bark, or tops
Of oaks that in the forest die with drought ;
My blood is drained ; my color wan with anguish ; No mortal hears me ; only Desolation,
That dwells abroad on Scythia's houseless plains. My spirit ne'er parleys with sleep-gendered forms ; No shade of slumber rests upon my eyelids.
TO SAVE A SISTER. 119
TO SAVE A SISTER. By GEORG EBERS.
(From "The Sisters," a novel of the time of Ptolemy Euergetes, b. c. 164. )
[Geoeg Moritz Ebbks : German Egyptologist and novelist ; horn at Berlin, March 1, 1837. He was educated at Gottingen and Berlin, and lectured for a while at Jena. In 1870 he became professor of Egyptian archaeology at Leipsic, resigning in 1889 on account of ill health. Besides several important works on Egyptology, he has published a series of historical novels treating of ancient Egyptian life, which have enjoyed extraordinary popularity not only in Ger many, but in other countries. The best known are : " An Egyptian Princess," "Uarda," "Homo Sum," "The Sisters," "Serapis," "The Bride of the Nile," and "Cleopatra. " Also popular are : " In the Fire of the Forge," " The Burgo master's Wife," and "Gred. "]
The Greek temple of Serapis, to which the water-carriers belonged, was joined to the Egyptian of Osiris-Apis by a fine paved street for the use of processions ; and along this Klea now rapidly proceeded. There was a shorter road to Memphis; but she chose this because the hills of sand on each side of the street bordered by Sphinxes, which had every day to be cleared of the desert drift, hid her from the sight of her companions in the temple ; moreover, the best and safest way to the city was by a road starting from a crescent, adorned with busts of philosophers, which lay near the main entrance to the new Apis tombs.
She looked neither at the lion bodies with men's heads which guarded the road, nor at the figures of beasts on the wall inclosing it ; nor did she heed the dusky temple slaves of Osiris- Apis, who with large brooms were sweeping the sand from the paved road : for she thought of nothing but Irene and the diffi cult task that lay before her, and walked swiftly onward with her eyes on the ground.
But she had taken only a few steps when she heard her name called quite near, and looking up in alarm she found herself standing opposite Krates, the little smith, who came close up to her, took hold of her veil, threw it back a little before she could prevent him, and asked : — "
" Do not keep me back," besought Klea. " You know that Irene, whom you were always so fond of, has been carried off ; perhaps I may be able to save her, but if you betray me and they follow me—"
" Where are you going, child ?
120 TO SAVE A SISTER.
"I will not hinder you," interrupted the old man. " Indeed, if it were not for these swollen feet I would go with you, for I can think of nothing else but the poor dear little thing ; but as it is, I shall be glad enough when I am sitting still again in my shop ; it is just as if a workman of my own trade lived in each of my big toes, and was dancing round in them with hammer and file and chisel and nails. Very likely you may be lucky enough to find your sister, for a cunning woman succeeds in many things which are too hard for a wise man. Go on, and if they hunt for you, old Krates will not betray you. "
" Wait a minute, my girl : you can do me a little service. I have just fitted a new lock to the door of the Apis tomb over there. It works finely, but the one key I have made for it is not enough: we need four, and you must order them for me from the locksmith Heri, to be sent me day after to-morrow ; he lives opposite the gate of Sokari — to the left, next the bridge over the canal — you can't miss it. I hate repeating and copying as much as I like inventing and making new things, and Heri can work from a pattern as well as I can. If it were not for my legs I would give him the commission myself, for one who speaks by the lips of a go-between is often misunder stood or not understood at all. "
He nodded kindly at Klea, and had half turned his back on her when he again looked round and called to her : —
" I will gladly save you the walk," replied Klea ; while the smith sat down on the pedestal of one of the Sphinxes, and opening the leather wallet which hung by his side, shook out the contents. Some files, chisels, and nails fell out into his lap ; then the key, and finally a sharp, pointed knife with which Krates had cut out the hollow in the door to insert the lock. Krates touched up the pattern key for the smith in Memphis with a few strokes of the file, and then, muttering thoughtfully and shaking his head doubtfully from side to side, he ex claimed : —
" You must come once more yet to the door with me, for I insist on accurate work from other people, and so I must be stern with my own. "
" But I want so much to reach Memphis before dark," be sought Klea.
" The whole thing won't take a minute, and if you will give me your arm I shall go twice as fast. There, here are the files, and here is the knife. "
TO SAVE A SISTER. 121
" Give it to me," Klea asked. " This blade is sharp and bright, and as soon as I saw felt as bid me take with me. Very likely may have to come through the desert alone at night. "
" Yes," said the smith, " and even the weakest feels stronger when he has weapon. Hide the knife somewhere about you, my child, only take care not to hurt yourself with it. Now let me take your arm, and on we will go — but not quite so fast. "
Klea led the smith to the door he indicated, and saw with admiration how unfailing the bolt sprang forward when one half of the door closed upon the other, and how easily the key pushed back again; then, after conducting Krates back to the Sphinx near which she had met him, she went on her way at her quickest pace, for the sun was already very low, and seemed scarcely possible to reach Memphis before should set.
As she approached tavern where soldiers and low people were accustomed to resort, she was met by drunken slave. She went on and passed him without any fear, for the knife in her girdle, and on which she kept her hand, kept up her cour age, and she felt as she had thus acquired third hand, which was more powerful and less timid than her own. A com pany of soldiers had encamped in front of the tavern, and the wine of Khakem, which was grown close by, on the eastern declivity of the Libyan range, had an excellent savor. The men were in capital spirits, for at noon to-day — after they had been quartered here for months as guards of the tombs of Apis and of the temples of the Necropolis — commanding officer of the Diadoches had arrived at Memphis, who had ordered them to break up at once, and to withdraw into the capital before nightfall. They were not to be relieved other mercenaries till the next morning.
All this Klea learned from messenger from the Egyptian temple in the Necropolis, who recognized her, and who was going to Memphis, commissioned by the priests of Osiris-Apis and Sokari to convey petition to the king, praying that fresh troops might be promptly sent to replace those now withdrawn.
For some time she went on side by side with this messenger, but soon she found that she could not keep up with his hurried pace, and had to fall behind. In front of another tavern sat the officers of the troops, whose noisy mirth she had heard as she passed the former one they were sitting over their wine and looking on at the dancing of two Egyptian girls, who screeched
;a if a
a
a by
if it
a a
it
it
it
a
I
it, I
it
122 TO SAVE A SISTER.
like cackling hens over their mad leaps, and who so effectually riveted the attention of the spectators, who were beating time for them by clapping their hands, that Klea, accelerating her step, was able to slip unobserved past the wild crew. All these scenes, nay, everything she met with on the high-road, scared the girl, who was accustomed to the silence and the solemn life of the temple of Serapis, and she therefore struck into a side path that probably also led to the city, which she could already see lying before her with its pylons, its citadel, and its houses veiled in evening mist. In a quarter of an hour at most she would have crossed the desert, and reach the fertile meadow land, whose emerald hue grew darker and darker every moment. The sun was already sinking to rest behind the Libyan range, and soon after, for twilight is short in Egypt, she was wrapped in the darkness of night. The west wind, which had begun to blow even at noon, now rose higher, and seemed to pursue her with its hot breath and the clouds of sand it carried with it from the desert.
She must certainly be approaching water, for she heard the deep boom of the bittern in the reeds, and fancied she breathed a moister air. A few steps more, and her foot sank in mud ; and she now saw that she was standing on the edge of a wide ditch in which tall papyrus plants were growing. The side path she had struck into ended at this plantation, and there was nothing to be done but to turn about and continue her walk against the wind and with the sand blowing in her face.
The light from the drinking-booth showed her the direction she must follow, for though the moon was up, it is true, black clouds swept across it, covering it and the smaller lights of heaven for many minutes at a time. Still she felt no fatigue, but the shouts of the men and the loud cries of the women that rang out from the tavern filled her with alarm and disgust. She made a wide circuit round the hostelry, wading through the sand hillocks and tearing her dress on the thorns and this tles that had boldly struck deep root in the desert, and had grown up there like the squalid brats in the hovel of a beggar. But still, as she hurried on by the high-road, the hideous laughter and the crowing mirth of the dancing-girls still rang in her mind's ear.
Her blood coursed more swiftly through her veins, her head was on fire, she saw Irene close before her, tangibly distinct —
TO SAVE A SISTER. 123
with flowing hair and fluttering garments, whirling in a wild dance like a Maenad at a Dionysiac festival, flying from one embrace to another, and shouting and shrieking in unbridled folly like the wretched girls she had seen on her way. She was seized with terror for her sister — an unbounded dread such as she had never felt before, and as the wind was now once more behind her, she let herself be driven on by it, lifting her feet in a swift run and flying, as if pursued by the Erinnyes, with out once looking round her, and wholly forgetful of the smith's commission, on toward the city along the road planted with trees, which, as she knew, led to the gate of the citadel.
In front of the gate of the king's palace sat a crowd of petitioners, who were accustomed to stay here from early dawn till late at night, until they were called into the palace to receive the answer to the petition they had drawn up. When Klea reached the end of her journey, she was so exhausted and bewildered that she felt the imperative necessity of seeking rest and quiet reflection, so she seated herself among these people, next to a woman from Upper Egypt. But hardly had she taken her place by her with a silent greeting, when her talkative neighbor began to relate with particular minuteness why she had come to Memphis, and how certain unjust judges had conspired with her bad husband to trick her — for men were always ready to join against a woman — and to deprive her of everything which had been secured to her and her chil dren by her marriage contract. For two months now, she said, she had been waiting early and late before the sublime gate, and was consuming her last ready cash in the city where living was so dear; but it was all one to her, and at a pinch
she would sell even her gold ornaments, for sooner or later her cause must come before the king, and then the wicked villain and his accomplices would be taught what was just.
Klea heard but little of this harangue ; a feeling had come over her like that of a person who is having water poured again and again on the top of his head. Presently her neigh bor observed that the newcomer was not listening at all to her complainings ; she slapped her shoulder with her hand, and said : —
" You seem to think of nothing but your own concerns ; and I dare say they are not of such a nature as that you should
124 TO SAVE A SISTER.
relate them to any one else ; so far as mine are concerned, the more they are discussed the better. "
The tone in which these remarks were made was so dry, and at the same time so sharp, that it hurt Klea, and she rose hastily to go closer to the gate. Her neighbor threw a cross word after her ; but she did not heed it, and drawing her veil closer over her face, she went through the gate of the palace into a vast courtyard, brightly lighted up by cressets and torches, and crowded with footrsoldiers and mounted guards.
The sentry at the gate perhaps had not observed her, or per haps had let her pass unchallenged from her dignified and erect gait, and the numerous armed men through whom she now made her way seemed to be so much occupied with their own affairs, that no one bestowed any notice on her. In a narrow alley, which led to a second court and was lighted by lanterns, one of the
known as Philobasilistes, a haughty young fellow in yellow riding-boots and a shirt of mail over his red tunic, came riding toward her on his tall horse, and noticing her, he tried to squeeze her between his charger and the wall, and put out his hand to raise her veil ; but Klea slipped aside, and put up her hands to protect herself from the horse's head, which was almost touching her. —
The cavalier, enjoying her alarm, called out :
"Only stand still — he is not vicious. "
" Which, you or your horse ?