No More Learning

The drunken bully, ere his man be slain,
Frets through the night, and courts repose in vain; 415
And while the thirst of blood his bosom burns,
From side to side, in restless anguish, turns,
Like Peleus' son, when, quelled by Hector's hand,
His loved Patroclus prest the Phrygian strand.
There are, who murder as an opiate take, 420
And only when no brawls await them wake:
Yet even these heroes, flushed with youth and wine,
All contest with the purple robe decline;
Securely give the lengthened train to pass,
The sun-bright flambeaux, and the lamps of brass. -- 425
Me, whom the moon, or candle's paler gleam,
Whose wick I husband to the last extreme,
Guides through the gloom, he braves, devoid of fear:
The prelude to our doughty quarrel hear,
If that be deemed a quarrel, where, heaven knows, 430
He only gives, and I receive, the blows!
Across my path he strides, and bids me STAND!
I bow, obsequious to the dread command;
What else remains, where madness, rage, combine
With youth, and strength superior far to mine? 435
"Whence come you, rogue? " he cries; "whose beans to-night
Have stuffed you thus? what cobbler clubbed his mite,
For leeks and sheep's-head porridge? Dumb! quite dumb!
Speak, or be kicked. --Yet, once again! your home?
Where shall I find you? At what beggar's stand 440
(Temple, or bridge) whimp'ring with outstretched hand? "
Whether I strive some humble plea to frame,
Or steal in silence by, 'tis just the same;
I'm beaten first, then dragged in rage away:
Bound to the peace, or punished for the fray! 445
Mark here the boasted freedom of the poor!
Beaten and bruised, that goodness to adore,
Which, at their humble prayer, suspends its ire,
And sends them home, with yet a bone entire!
Nor this the worst; for when deep midnight reigns, 450
And bolts secure our doors, and massy chains,
When noisy inns a transient silence keep,
And harassed nature woos the balm of sleep,
Then, thieves and murderers ply their dreadful trade;
With stealthy steps our secret couch invade:-- 455
Roused from the treacherous calm, aghast we start,
And the fleshed sword--is buried in our heart!
Hither from bogs, from rocks, and caves pursued
(The Pontine marsh, and Gallinarian wood),
The dark assassins flock, as to their home, 460
And fill with dire alarms the streets of Rome.
Such countless multitudes our peace annoy,
That bolts and shackles every forge employ,
And cause so wide a waste, the country fears
A want of ore for mattocks, rakes, and shares. 465
O! happy were our sires, estranged from crimes;
And happy, happy, were the good old times,
Which saw, beneath their kings', their tribunes' reign,
One cell the nation's criminals contain!
Much could I add, more reasons could I cite, 470
If time were ours, to justify my flight;
But see! the impatient team is moving on,
The sun declining; and I must be gone:
Long since, the driver murmured at my stay,
And jerked his whip, to beckon me away. 475
Farewell, my friend! with this embrace we part!
Cherish my memory ever in your heart;
And when, from crowds and business, you repair,
To breathe at your Aquinum freer air,
Fail not to draw me from my loved retreat, 480
To Elvine Ceres, and Diana's seat:
For your bleak hills my Cumæ I'll resign,
And (if you blush not at such aid as mine)
Come well equipped, to wage, in angry rhymes,
Fierce war, with you, on follies and on crimes. 485


SATIRE IV.

Again Crispinus comes! and yet again,
And oft, shall he be summoned to sustain
His dreadful part:--the monster of the times,
Without ONE virtue to redeem his crimes!
Diseased, emaciate, weak in all but lust, 5
And whom the widow's sweets alone disgust.
Avails it, then, in what long colonnades
He tires his mules? through what extensive glades
His chair is borne? what vast estates he buys,
What splendid domes, that round the Forum rise? 10
Ah! no--Peace visits not the guilty mind,
Least his, who incest to adultery joined,
And stained thy priestess, Vesta;--whom, dire fate!
The long dark night and living tomb await.
Turn we to slighter vices:--yet had these, 15
In others, Seius, Titius, whom you please,
The Censor roused; for what the good would shame,
Becomes Crispinus, and is honest fame.
But when the actor's person far exceeds,
In native loathsomeness, his loathsom'st deeds, 20
Say, what can satire? For a fish that weighed
Six pounds, six thousand sesterces he paid!
As those report, who catch, with greedy ear,
And magnify the mighty things they hear.
Had this expense been meant, with well-timed skill, 25
To gull some childless dotard of a Will;
Or bribe some rich and fashionable fair,
Who flaunts it in a close, wide-windowed chair;
'Twere worth our praise:--but no such plot was here.
'Twas for HIMSELF he bought a treat so dear! 30
This, all past gluttony from shame redeems,
And even Apicius poor and frugal seems.
What! You, Crispinus, brought to Rome, erewhile,
Lapt in the rushes of your native Nile,
Buy scales, at such a price! you might, I guess, 35
Have bought the fisherman himself for less;
Bought, in some countries, manors at this rate,
And, in Apulia, an immense estate!
How gorged the emperor, when so dear a fish,
Yet, of his cheapest meals, the cheapest dish, 40
Was guttled down by this impurpled lord,
Chief knight, chief parasite, at Cæsar's board,
Whom Memphis heard so late, with ceaseless yell,
Clamoring through all her streets--"Ho! shads to sell! "
Pierian MAIDS, begin;--but, quit your lyres, 45
The fact I bring no lofty chord requires:
Relate it, then, and in the simplest strain,
Nor let the poet style you MAIDS, in vain.
When the last Flavius, drunk with fury, tore
The prostrate world, which bled at every pore, 50
And Rome beheld, in body as in mind,
A bald-pate Nero rise, to curse mankind;
It chanced, that where the fane of Venus stands,
Reared on Ancona's coast by Grecian hands,
A turbot, wandering from the Illyrian main, 55
Fill'd the wide bosom of the bursting seine.
Monsters so bulky, from its frozen stream,
Mæotis renders to the solar beam,
And pours them, fat with a whole winter's ease,
Through the bleak Euxine, into warmer seas. 60
The mighty draught the astonished boatman eyes,
And to the Pontiff's table dooms his prize:
For who would dare to sell it? who to buy?
When the coast swarmed with many a practiced spy,
Mud-rakers, prompt to swear the fish had fled 65
From Cæsar's ponds, ingrate! where long it fed,
And thus recaptured, claimed to be restored
To the dominion of its ancient lord!
Nay, if Palphurius may our credit gain,
Whatever rare or precious swims the main, 70
Is forfeit to the crown, and you may seize
The obnoxious dainty, when and where you please.
This point allowed, our wary boatman chose
To give--what, else, he had not failed to lose.
Now were the dogstar's sickly fervors o'er, 75
Earth, pinched with cold, her frozen livery wore;
The old began their quartan fits to fear,
And wintry blasts deformed the beauteous year,
And kept the turbot sweet: yet on he flew,
As if the sultry South corruption blew. -- 80
And now the lake, and now the hill he gains,
Where Alba, though in ruins, still maintains
The Trojan fire, which, but for her, were lost,
And worships Vesta, though with less of cost.
The wondering crowd, that gathered to survey 85
The enormous fish, and barred the fisher's way,
Satiate, at length retires; the gates unfold! --
Murmuring, the excluded senators behold
The envied dainty enter:--On the man
To great Atrides pressed, and thus began. 90
"This, for a private table far too great,
Accept, and sumptuously your Genius treat:
Haste to unload your stomach, and devour
A turbot, destined to this happy hour.
I sought him not;--he marked the toils I set, 95
And rushed, a willing victim, to my net. "
Was flattery e'er so rank! yet he grows vain,
And his crest rises at the fulsome strain.
When, to divine, a mortal power we raise,
He looks for no hyperboles in praise. 100
But when was joy unmixed? no pot is found,
Capacious of the turbot's ample round:
In this distress, he calls the chiefs of state,
At once the objects of his scorn and hate,
In whose pale cheeks distrust and doubt appear, 105
And all a tyrant's friendship breeds of fear.
Scarce was the loud Liburnian heard to say,
"He sits," ere Pegasus was on his way;
Yes:--the new bailiff of the affrighted town,
(For what were Præfects more? ) had snatched his gown, 110
And rushed to council: from the ivory chair,
He dealt out justice with no common care;
But yielded oft to those licentious times,
And where he could not punish, winked at crimes.
Then old, facetious Crispus tript along, 115
Of gentle manners, and persuasive tongue:
None fitter to advise the lord of all,
Had that pernicious pest, whom thus we call,
Allowed a friend to soothe his savage mood,
And give him counsel, wise at once and good. 120
But who shall dare this liberty to take,
When, every word you hazard, life's at stake?
Though but of stormy summers, showery springs--
For tyrants' ears, alas! are ticklish things.
So did the good old man his tongue restrain; 125
Nor strove to stem the torrent's force in vain.
Not one of those, who, by no fears deterred,
Spoke the free soul, and truth to life preferred.
He temporized--thus fourscore summers fled,
Even in that court, securely, o'er his head. 130
Next him, appeared Acilius hurrying on,
Of equal age--and followed by his son;
Who fell, unjustly fell, in early years,
A victim to the tyrant's jealous fears:
But long ere this were hoary hairs become 135
A prodigy, among the great, at Rome;
Hence, had I rather owe my humble birth,
Frail brother of the giant-brood, to earth.
Poor youth! in vain the ancient sleight you try;
In vain, with frantic air, and ardent eye, 140
Fling every robe aside, and battle wage
With bears and lions, on the Alban stage.
All see the trick: and, spite of Brutus' skill,
There are who count him but a driveler still;
Since, in his days, it cost no mighty pains 145
To outwit a prince, with much more beard than brains.
Rubrius, though not, like these, of noble race,
Followed with equal terror in his face;
And, laboring with a crime too foul to name,
More, than the pathic satirist, lost to shame. 150
Montanus' belly next, and next appeared
The legs, on which that monstrous pile was reared.
Crispinus followed, daubed with more perfume,
Thus early! than two funerals consume.
Then bloodier Pompey, practiced to betray, 155
And hesitate the noblest lives away.
Then Fuscus, who in studious pomp at home,
Planned future triumphs for the Arms of Rome.
Blind to the event! those arms, a different fate,
Inglorious wounds, and Dacian vultures, wait. 160
Last, sly Veiento with Catullus came,
Deadly Catullus, who, at beauty's name
Took fire, although unseen: a wretch, whose crimes
Struck with amaze even those prodigious times.
A base, blind parasite, a murderous lord, 165
From the bridge-end raised to the council-board;
Yet fitter still to dog the traveler's heels,
And whine for alms to the descending wheels!
None dwelt so largely on the turbot's size,
Or raised with such applause his wondering eyes; 170
But to the left (O, treacherous want of sight)
He poured his praise;--the fish was on the right!
Thus would he at the fencer's matches sit,
And shout with rapture, at some fancied hit;
And thus applaud the stage-machinery, where 175
The youths were rapt aloft, and lost in air.
Nor fell Veiento short:--as if possest
With all Bellona's rage, his laboring breast
Burst forth in prophecy; "I see, I see
The omens of some glorious victory! 180
Some powerful monarch captured! --lo, he rears,
Horrent on every side, his pointed spears!
Arviragus hurled from the British car:
The fish is foreign, foreign is the war. "
Proceed, great seer, and what remains untold, 185
The turbot's age and country, next unfold;
So shall your lord his fortunes better know,
And where the conquest waits and who the foe.
The emperor now the important question put,
"How say ye, Fathers, SHALL THE FISH BE CUT? " 190
"O, far be that disgrace," Montanus cries;
"No, let a pot be formed, of amplest size,
Within whose slender sides the fish, dread sire,
May spread his vast circumference entire!
Bring, bring the tempered clay, and let it feel 195
The quick gyrations of the plastic wheel:--
But, Cæsar, thus forewarned, make no campaign,
Unless your potters follow in your train! "
Montanus ended; all approved the plan,
And all, the speech, so worthy of the man! 200
Versed in the old court luxury, he knew
The feasts of Nero, and his midnight crew;
Where oft, when potent draughts had fired the brain,
The jaded taste was spurred to gorge again. --
And, in my time, none understood so well 205
The science of good eating: he could tell,
At the first relish, if his oysters fed
On the Rutupian, or the Lucrine bed;
And from a crab, or lobster's color, name
The country, nay, the district, whence it came. 210
Here closed the solemn farce. The Fathers rise,
And each, submissive, from the presence hies:--
Pale, trembling wretches, whom the chief, in sport,
Had dragged, astonished, to the Alban court;
As if the stern Sicambri were in arms, 215
Or the fierce Catti threatened new alarms;
As if ill news by flying posts had come,
And gathering nations sought the fall of Rome!
O! that such scenes (disgraceful at the most)
Had all those years of cruelty engrost, 220
Through which his rage pursued the great and good,
Unchecked, while vengeance slumbered o'er their blood!
And yet he fell! --for when he changed his game,
And first grew dreadful to the vulgar name,
They seized the murderer, drenched with Lamian gore, 225
And hurled him, headlong, to the infernal shore!


SATIRE V.

TO TREBIUS.

If--by reiterated scorn made bold,
Your mind can still its shameless tenor hold,
Still think the greatest blessing earth can give,
Is, solely at another's cost to live;
If--you can brook, what Galba would have spurned, 5
And mean Sarmentus with a frown returned,
At Cæsar's haughty board, dependents both,
I scarce would take your evidence on oath.
The belly's fed with little cost: yet grant
You should, unhappily, that little want, 10
Some vacant bridge might surely still be found,
Some highway side; where, groveling on the ground,
Your shivering limbs compassion's sigh might wake,
And gain an alms for "Charity's sweet sake! "
What! can a meal, thus sauced, deserve your care? 15
Is hunger so importunate? when THERE,
THERE, in your tattered rug, you may, my friend,
On casual scraps more honestly depend;
With chattering teeth toil o'er your wretched treat,
And gnaw the crusts, which dogs refuse to eat! -- 20
For, first, of this be sure: whene'er your lord
Thinks proper to invite you to his board,
He pays, or thinks he pays, the total sum
Of all your pains, past, present, and to come.
Behold the meed of servitude! the great 25
Reward their humble followers with a treat,
And count it current coin:--they count it such,
And, though it be but little, think it much.
If, after two long months, he condescend
To waste a thought upon an humble friend, 30
Reminded by a vacant seat, and write,
"You, Master Trebius, sup with me to-night,"
'Tis rapture all! Go now, supremely blest,
Enjoy the meed for which you broke your rest,
And, loose and slipshod, ran your vows to pay, 35
What time the fading stars announced the day;
Or at that earlier hour, when, with slow roll,
Thy frozen wain, Boötes, turned the pole;
Yet trembling, lest the levee should be o'er,
And the full court retiring from the door! 40
And what a meal at last! such ropy wine,
As wool, which takes all liquids, would decline;
Hot, heady lees, to fire the wretched guests,
And turn them all to Corybants, or beasts. --
At first, with sneers and sarcasms, they engage, 45
Then hurl the jugs around, with mutual rage;
Or, stung to madness by the household train,
With coarse stone pots a desperate fight maintain;
While streams of blood in smoking torrents flow,
And my lord smiles to see the battle glow! 50
Not such his beverage: he enjoys the juice
Of ancient days, when beards were yet in use,
Pressed in the Social War! --but will not send
One cordial drop, to cheer a fainting friend.
To-morrow, he will change, and, haply, fill 55
The mellow vintage of the Alban hill,
Or Setian; wines, which can not now be known,
So much the mould of age has overgrown
The district, and the date; such generous bowls,
As Thrasea and Helvidius, patriot souls! 60
While crowned with flowers, in sacred pomp, they lay,
To FREEDOM quaffed, on Brutus' natal day.
Before your patron, cups of price are placed,
Amber and gold, with rows of beryls graced:
Cups, you can only at a distance view, 65
And never trusted to such guests as you!
Or, if they be--a faithful slave attends,
To count the gems, and watch your fingers' ends.
You'll pardon him; but lo! a jasper there,
Of matchless worth, which justifies his care: 70
For Virro, like his brother peers, of late,
Has stripped his fingers to adorn his plate;
And jewels now emblaze the festive board, }
Which decked with nobler grace the hero's sword, }
Whom Dido prized, above the Libyan lord. } 75
From such he drinks: to you the slaves allot
The Beneventine cobbler's four-lugged pot,
A fragment, a mere shard, of little worth,
But to be trucked for matches--and so forth.
If Virro's veins with indigestion glow, 80
They bring him water cooled in Scythian snow:
What! did I late complain a different wine
Fell to thy share? A different water's thine!
Getulian slaves your vile potations pour,
Or the coarse paws of some huge, raw-boned Moor, 85
Whose hideous form the stoutest would affray,
If met, by moonlight, near the Latian way:
On him a youth, the flower of Asia, waits,
So dearly purchased, that the joint estates
Of Tullus, Ancus, would not yield the sum, 90
Nor all the wealth--of all the kings of Rome!
Bear this in mind; and when the cup you need,
Look to your own Getulian Ganymede;
A page who cost so much, will ne'er, be sure,
Come at your beck: he heeds not, he, the poor; 95
But, of his youth and beauty justly vain,
Trips by them, with indifference and disdain.
If called, he hears not, or, with rage inflamed--
Indignant, that his services are claimed
By an old client, who, ye gods! commands, 100
And sits at ease, while his superior stands!
Such proud, audacious minions swarm in Rome,
And trample on the poor, where'er they come.
Mark with what insolence another thrusts
Before your plate th' impenetrable crusts, 105
Black mouldy fragments, which defy the saw,
The mere despair of every aching jaw!
While manchets, of the finest flour, are set
Before your lord; but be you mindful, yet,
And taste not, touch not: of the pantler stand 110
In trembling awe, and check your desperate hand--
Yet, should you dare--a slave springs forth, to wrest
The sacred morsel from you. "Saucy guest,"
He frowns, and mutters, "wilt thou ne'er divine
What's for thy patron's tooth, and what for thine? 115
Never take notice from what tray thou'rt fed,
Nor know the color of thy proper bread? "
Was it for this, the baffled client cries,
The tears indignant starting from his eyes,
Was it for this I left my wife ere day, 120
And up the bleak Esquilian urged my way,
While the wind howled, the hail-storm beat amain,
And my cloak smoked beneath the driving rain!
But lo, a lobster, introduced in state,
Stretches, enormous, o'er the bending plate; 125
Proud of a length of tail, he seems to eye
The humbler guests with scorn, as, towering by,
He takes the place of honor at the board,
And crowned with costly pickles, greets his lord!
A crab is yours, ill garnished and ill fed, 130
With half an egg--a supper for the dead!
He pours Venafran oil upon his fish,
While the stale coleworts, in your wooden dish,
Stink of the lamp; for such to you is thrown,
Such rancid grease, as Afric sends to town; 135
So strong, that when her factors seek the bath,
All wind, and all avoid, the noisome path;
So pestilent! that her own serpents fly
The horrid stench, or meet it but to die.
See! a sur-mullet now before him set, 140
From Corsica, or isles more distant yet,
Brought post to Rome; since Ostia's shores no more
Supply the insatiate glutton, as of yore,
Thinned by the net, whose everlasting throw
Allows no Tuscan fish in peace to grow. 145
Still luxury yawns, unfilled; the nations rise,
And ransack all their coasts for fresh supplies:
Thence come your presents; thence, as rumor tells,
The dainties Lenas buys, Aurelia sells.
A lamprey next, from the Sicilian straits, 150
Of more than common size, on Virro waits--
For oft as Auster seeks his cave, and flings
The cumbrous moisture from his dripping wings,
Forth flies the daring fisher, lured by gain,
While rocks oppose, and whirlpools threat in vain. 155
To you an eel is brought, whose slender make
Speaks him a famished cousin to the snake;
Or some frost-bitten pike, who, day by day,
Through half the city's ordure sucked his way!
Would Virro deign to hear me, I could give 160
A few brief hints:--We look not to receive
What Seneca, what Cotta used to send,
What the good Piso, to an humble friend:--
For bounty once preferred a fairer claim,
Than birth or power, to honorable fame: 165
No; all we ask (and you may this afford)
Is, simply, civil treatment at your board;
Indulge us here; and be, like numbers more,
Rich to yourself, to your dependents poor!
Vain hope! Near him a goose's liver lies; 170
A capon, equal to a goose in size;
A boar, too, smokes, like that which fell, of old,
By the famed hero with the locks of gold.
Last, if the spring its genial influence shed,
And welcome thunders call them from their bed, 175
Large mushrooms enter; ravished with their size,
"O Libya, keep thy grain! " Alledius cries,
"And bid thy oxen to their stalls retreat,
Nor, while thou grow'st such mushrooms, think of wheat! "
Meanwhile, to put your patience to the test, 180
Lo! the spruce carver, to his task addrest,
Skips, like a harlequin, from place to place,
And waves his knife with pantomimic grace,
Till every dish be ranged, and every joint
Severed, by nicest rules, from point to point. 185
You think this folly--'tis a simple thought--
To such perfection, now, is carving brought,
That different gestures, by our curious men,
Are used for different dishes, hare and hen.
But think whate'er you may, your comments spare; 190
For should you, like a free-born Roman, dare
To hint your thoughts, forth springs some sturdy groom,
And drags you straight, heels foremost, from the room!
Does Virro ever pledge you? ever sip
The liquor touched by your unhallowed lip? 195
Or is there one of all your tribe so free,
So desperate, as to say--"Sir, drink to me? "
O, there is much, that never can be spoke
By a poor client in a threadbare cloak!
But should some godlike man, more kind than fate, 200
Some god, present you with a knight's estate,
Heavens, what a change! how infinitely dear
Would Trebius then become! How great appear,
From nothing! Virro, so reserved of late,
Grows quite familiar: "Brother, send your plate. 205
Dear brother Trebius! you were wont to say
You liked this trail, I think--Oblige me, pray. "--
O Riches! --this "dear brother" is your own,
To you this friendship, this respect is shown.
But would you now your patron's patron be? 210
Let no young Trebius wanton round your knee,
No Trebia, none: a barren wife procures
The kindest, truest friends! such then be yours. --
Yet, should she breed, and, to augment your joys,
Pour in your lap, at once, three bouncing boys, 215
Virro will still, so you be wealthy, deign
To toy and prattle with the lisping train;
Will have his pockets too with farthings stored,
And when the sweet young rogues approach his board,
Bring out his pretty corselets for the breast, 220
His nuts, and apples, for each coaxing guest.
You champ on spongy toadstools, hateful treat!
Fearful of poison in each bit you eat;
He feasts secure on mushrooms, fine as those
Which Claudius, for his special eating chose, 225
Till one more fine, provided by his wife,
Finished at once his feasting, and his life!
Apples, as fragrant, and as bright of hue,
As those which in Alcinoüs' gardens grew,
Mellowed by constant sunshine; or as those, 230
Which graced the Hesperides, in burnished rows;
Apples, which you may smell, but never taste,
Before your lord and his great friends are placed:
While you enjoy mere windfalls, such stale fruit,
As serves to mortify the raw recruit, 235
When, armed with helm and shield, the lance he throws,
And trembles at the shaggy master's blows.
You think, perhaps, that Virro treats so ill
To save his gold; no, 'tis to vex you still:
For, say, what comedy such mirth can raise, 240
As hunger, tortured thus a thousand ways?
No (if you know it not), 'tis to excite
Your rage, your phrensy, for his mere delight;
'Tis to compel you all your gall to show,
And gnash your teeth in agonies of woe. 245
You deem yourself (such pride inflates your breast),
Forsooth, a freeman, and your patron's guest;
He thinks you a vile slave, drawn, by the smell
Of his warm kitchen, there; and he thinks well:
For who so low, so wretched as to bear 250
Such treatment twice, whose fortune 'twas to wear
The golden boss; nay, to whose humbler lot,
The poor man's ensign fell, the leathern knot!
Your palate still beguiles you: Ah, how nice
That smoking haunch! NOW we shall have a slice! 255
Now that half hare is coming! NOW a bit
Of that young pullet! NOW--and thus you sit,
Thumbing your bread in silence; watching still,
For what has never reached you, never will!
No more of freedom! 'tis a vain pretense: 260
Your patron treats you like a man of sense:
For, if you can, without a murmur, bear,
You well deserve the insults which you share.
Anon, like voluntary slaves, you'll throw
Your humbled necks beneath the oppressor's blow, 265
Nay, with bare backs, solicit to be beat,
And merit SUCH A FRIEND, and SUCH A TREAT!


SATIRE VI.

TO URSIDIUS POSTHUMUS.
Yes, I believe that CHASTITY was known,
And prized on earth, while Saturn filled the throne;
When rocks a bleak and scanty shelter gave,
When sheep and shepherds thronged one common cave,
And when the mountain wife her couch bestrewed 5
With skins of beasts, joint tenants of the wood,
And reeds, and leaves plucked from the neighboring tree:--
A woman, Cynthia, far unlike to thee,
Or thee, weak child of fondness and of fears,
Whose eyes a sparrow's death suffused with tears: 10
But strong, and reaching to her burly brood
Her big-swollen breasts, replete with wholesome food,
And rougher than her husband, gorged with mast,
And frequent belching from the coarse repast.
For when the world was new, the race that broke, 15
Unfathered, from the soil or opening oak,
Lived most unlike the men of later times,
The puling brood of follies and of crimes.
Haply some trace of Chastity remained,
While Jove, but Jove as yet unbearded, reigned: 20
Before the Greek bound, by another's head,
His doubtful faith; or men, of theft in dread,
Had learned their herbs and fruitage to immure,
But all was uninclosed, and all secure!
At length Astrea, from these confines driven, 25
Regained by slow degrees her native heaven;
With her retired her sister in disgust,
And left the world to rapine, and to lust.
'Tis not a practice, friend, of recent date,
But old, established, and inveterate, 30
To climb another's couch, and boldly slight
The sacred Genius of the nuptial rite:
All other crimes the Age of Iron curst;
But that of Silver saw adulterers first.
Yet thou, it seems, art eager to engage 35
Thy witless neck, in this degenerate age!
Even now, thy hair the modish curl is taught,
By master-hands; even now, the ring is bought;
Even now--thou once, Ursidius, hadst thy wits,
But thus to talk of wiving! --O, these fits! 40
What more than madness has thy soul possest?
What snakes, what Furies, agitate thy breast?
Heavens! wilt thou tamely drag the galling chain,
While hemp is to be bought, while knives remain?
While windows woo thee so divinely high, 45
And Tiber and the Æmilian bridge are nigh? --
"O, but the law," thou criest, "the Julian law,
Will keep my destined wife from every flaw;
Besides, I die for heirs. " Good! and for those,
Wilt thou the turtle and the turbot lose, 50
And all the dainties, which the flatterer, still
Heaps on the childless, to secure his Will?
But what will hence impossible be held,
If thou, old friend, to wedlock art impelled?
If thou, the veriest debauchee in town, 55
With whom wives, widows, every thing went down,
Shouldst stretch the unsuspecting neck, and poke
Thy foolish nose into the marriage yoke?
Thou, famed for scapes, and, by the trembling wife,
Thrust in a chest so oft, to save thy life! -- 60
But what! Ursidius hopes a mate to gain,
Frugal, and chaste, and of the good old strain:
Alas, he's frantic! ope a vein with speed,
And bleed him copiously, good doctor, bleed.
Jewel of men! thy knees to Jove incline, 65
And let a heifer fall at Juno's shrine,
If thy researches for a wife be blest,
With one, who is not--need I speak the rest?
Ah! few the matrons Ceres now can find,
Her hallowed fillets, with chaste hands, to bind; 70
Few whom their fathers with their lips can trust,
So strong their filial kisses smack of lust!
Go then, prepare to bring your mistress home,
And crown your doors with garlands, ere she come. --
But will one man suffice, methinks, you cry, 75
For all her wants and wishes? Will one eye!
And yet there runs, 'tis said, a wondrous tale,
Of some pure maid, who lives--in some lone vale.
There she MAY live; but let the phœnix, placed
At Gabii or Fidenæ, prove as chaste 80
As at her father's farm! --Yet who will swear,
That naught is done in night and silence there?
Time was, when Jupiter and Mars, we're told, }
With many a nymph in woods and caves made bold; }
And still, perhaps, they may not be too old. } 85
Survey our public places; see you there
One woman worthy of your serious care?
See you, through all the crowded benches, one
Whom you might take securely for your own? --
Lo! while Bathyllus, with his flexile limbs, 90
Acts Leda, and through every posture swims,
Tuccia delights to realize the play,
And in lascivious trances melts away;
While rustic Thymele, with curious eye,
Marks the quick pant, the lingering, deep-drawn sigh, 95
And while her cheeks with burning blushes glow,
Learns this--learns all the city matrons know.
Others, when of the theatres bereft,
When nothing but the wrangling bar is left,
In the long tedious months which interpose 100
'Twixt the Cybelian and Plebeian shows,
Sicken for action, and assume the airs,
The mask and thyrsus, of their favorite players.
--Midst peals of mirth, see Urbicus advance
(Poor Ælia's choice), and, in a wanton dance, 105
Burlesque Autonoë's woes! the rich engage
In higher frolics, and defraud the stage;
Take from Chrysogonus the power to sing,
Loose, at vast prices, the comedian's ring,
Tempt the tragedian--but I see you moved-- 110
Heavens! dreamed you that QUINTILIAN would be loved!
Then hie thee, Lentulus, and boldly wed,
That the chaste partner of thy fruitful bed
May kindly single from this motley race
Some sturdy Glaphyrus, thy brows to grace: 115
Haste; in the narrow streets long scaffolds raise,
And deck thy portals with triumphant bays;
That in thy heir, as swathed in state he lies,
The guests may trace Mirmillo's nose and eyes!
Hippia, who shared a rich patrician's bed, 120
To Egypt with a gladiator fled,
While rank Canopus eyed, with strong disgust,
This ranker specimen of Roman lust.
Without one pang, the profligate resigned
Her husband, sister, sire; gave to the wind 125
Her children's tears; yea, tore herself away
(To strike you more)--from PARIS and the PLAY!
And though, in affluence born, her infant head
Had pressed the down of an embroidered bed,
She braved the deep (she long had braved her fame; 130
But this is little--to the courtly dame),
And, with undaunted breast, the changes bore,
Of many a sea, the swelling and the roar.
Have they an honest call, such ills to bear?
Cold shiverings seize them, and they shrink with fear; 135
But set illicit pleasure in their eye,
Onward they rush, and every toil defy!
Summoned by duty, to attend her lord,
How, cries the lady, can I get on board?
How bear the dizzy motion? how the smell? 140
But--when the adulterer calls her, all is well!
She roams the deck, with pleasure ever new,
Tugs at the ropes, and messes with the crew;
But with her husband--O, how changed the case!
Sick! sick! she cries, and vomits in his face. 145
But by what youthful charms, what shape, what air,
Was Hippia won, the opprobrious name to bear
Of FENCER'S TRULL? The wanton well might dote!
For the sweet Sergius long had scraped his throat,
Long looked for leave to quit the public stage, 150
Maimed in his limbs, and verging now to age.
Add, that his face was battered and decayed;
The helmet on his brow huge galls had made,
A wen deformed his nose, of monstrous size,
And sharp rheum trickled from his bloodshot eyes: 155
But then he was a SWORDSMAN! that alone
Made every charm and every grace his own;
That made him dearer than her nuptial vows,
Dearer than country, sister, children, spouse. --
'TIS BLOOD THEY LOVE: Let Sergius quit the sword, 160
And he'll appear, at once--so like her lord!
Start you at wrongs that touch a private name,
At Hippia's lewdness, and Veiento's shame?
Turn to the rivals of the immortal Powers,
And mark how like their fortunes are to ours! 165
Claudius had scarce begun his eyes to close,
Ere from his pillow Messalina rose
(Accustomed long the bed of state to slight
For the coarse mattress, and the hood of night);
And with one maid, and her dark hair concealed 170
Beneath a yellow tire, a strumpet veiled!
She slipt into the stews, unseen, unknown,
And hired a cell, yet reeking, for her own.
There, flinging off her dress, the imperial whore
Stood, with bare breasts and gilded, at the door, 175
And showed, Britannicus, to all who came,
The womb that bore thee, in Lycisca's name!
Allured the passers by with many a wile,
And asked her price, and took it, with a smile.
And when the hour of business now was spent, 180
And all the trulls dismissed, repining went;
Yet what she could, she did; slowly she past,
And saw her man, and shut her cell, the last,
--Still raging with the fever of desire,
Her veins all turgid, and her blood all fire, 185
With joyless pace, the imperial couch she sought,
And to her happy spouse (yet slumbering) brought
Cheeks rank with sweat, limbs drenched with poisonous dews,
The steam of lamps, and odor of the stews!
'Twere long to tell what philters they provide, 190
What drugs, to set a son-in-law aside.
Women, in judgment weak, in feeling strong,
By every, gust of passion borne along,
Act, in their fits, such crimes, that, to be just,
The least pernicious of their sins is lust. 195
But why's Cesennia then, you say, adored,
And styled the first of women, by her lord?
Because she brought him thousands: such the price
It cost the lady to be free from vice! --
Not for her charms the wounded lover pined, 200
Nor felt the flame which fires the ardent mind,
Plutus, not Cupid, touched his sordid heart;
And 'twas her dower that winged the unerring dart.
She brought enough her liberty to buy,
And tip the wink before her husband's eye. 205
A wealthy wanton, to a miser wed,
Has all the license of a widowed bed.
But yet, Sertorius what I say disproves,
For though his Bibula is poor, he loves.
True! but examine him; and, on my life, 210
You'll find he loves the beauty, not the wife.
Let but a wrinkle on her forehead rise,
And time obscure the lustre of her eyes;
Let but the moisture leave her flaccid skin,
And her teeth blacken, and her cheeks grow thin; 215
And you shall hear the insulting freedman say,
"Pack up your trumpery, madam, and away!
Nay, bustle, bustle; here you give offense,
With sniveling night and day;--take your nose hence! "--
But, ere that hour arrives, she reigns indeed! 220
Shepherds, and sheep of Canusinian breed,
Falernian vineyards (trifles these), she craves,
And store of boys, and troops of country slaves;
Briefly, for all her neighbor has, she sighs,
And plagues her doting husband, till he buys. 225
In winter, when the merchant fears to roam,
And snow confines the shivering crew at home;
She ransacks every shop for precious ware,
Here cheapens myrrh and crystal vases; there,
That far-famed gem which Berenice wore, 230
The hire of incest, and thence valued more;
A brother's present, in that barbarous State,
Where kings the sabbath, barefoot, celebrate;
And old indulgence grants a length of life
To hogs, that fatten fearless of the knife. 235
What! and is none of all this numerous herd
Worthy your choice? not one, to be preferred?
Suppose her nobly born, young, rich, and fair,
And (though a coal-black swan be far less rare)
Chaste as the Sabine wives, who rushed between 240
The kindred hosts, and closed the unnatural scene;
Yet who could bear to lead an humbled life,
Cursed with that veriest plague, a faultless wife! --
Some simple rustic at Venusium bred,
O let me, rather than Cornelia, wed, 245
If, to great virtues, greater pride she join,
And count her ancestors as current coin.
Take back, for mercy's sake, thy Hannibal!
Away with vanquished Syphax, camp and all!
Troop, with the whole of Carthage! I'd be free 250
From all this pageantry of worth--and thee.
"O let, Apollo, let my children live,
And thou, Diana, pity, and forgive;"
Amphion cries; "they, they are guiltless all!
The mother sinned, let then the mother fall. " 255
In vain he cries; Apollo bends his bow,
And, with the children, lays the father low?
They fell; while Niobe aspired to place
Her birth and blood above Latona's race;
And boast her womb--too fruitful, to be named 260
With that WHITE SOW, for thirty sucklings famed.
Beauty and worth are purchased much too dear,
If a wife force them hourly on your ear;
For, say, what pleasure can you hope to find,
Even in this boast, this phœnix of her kind, 265
If, warped by pride, on all around she lour,
And in your cup more gall than honey pour?
Ah! who so blindly wedded to the state,
As not to shrink from such a perfect mate,
Of every virtue feel the oppressive weight, 270
And curse the worth he loves, seven hours in eight?
Some faults, though small, no husband yet can bear:
'Tis now the nauseous cant, that none is fair,
Unless her thoughts in Attic terms she dress;
A mere Cecropian of a Sulmoness! 275
All now is Greek: in Greek their souls they pour,
In Greek their fears, hopes, joys;--what would you more?
In Greek they clasp their lovers. We allow
These fooleries to girls: but thou, O thou,
Who tremblest on the verge of eighty-eight, 280
To Greek it still! --'tis, now, a day too late.
Foh! how it savors of the dregs of lust,
When an old hag, whose blandishments disgust,
Affects the infant lisp, the girlish squeak,
And mumbles out, "My life! " "My soul! " in Greek! 285
Words, which the secret sheets alone should hear,
But which she trumpets in the public ear.
And words, indeed, have power--But though she woo
In softer strains than e'er Carpophorus knew,
Her wrinkles still employ her favorite's cares; 290
And while she murmurs love, he counts her years!
But tell me;--if thou CANST NOT love a wife,
Made thine by every tie, and thine for life,
Why wed at all? why waste the wine and cakes,
The queasy-stomached guest, at parting, takes? 295
And the rich present, which the bridal right
Claims for the favors of the happy night?
The charger, where, triumphantly inscrolled,
The Dacian Hero shines in current gold!
If thou CANST love, and thy besotted mind 300
Is, so uxoriously, to one inclined,
Then bow thy neck, and with submissive air
Receive the yoke--thou must forever wear.
To a fond spouse a wife no mercy shows:--
Though warmed with equal fires, she mocks his woes, 305
And triumphs in his spoils: her wayward will
Defeats his bliss, and turns his good to ill!
Naught must be given, if she opposes; naught,
If she opposes, must be sold or bought;
She tells him where to love, and where to hate, } 310
Shuts out the ancient friend, whose beard his gate }
Knew, from its downy to its hoary state: }
And when pimps, parasites, of all degrees
Have power to will their fortunes as they please,
She dictates his; and impudently dares 315
To name his very rivals for his heirs!
"Go, crucify that slave. " For what offense?
Who the accuser? Where the evidence?
For when the life of MAN is in debate,
No time can be too long, no care too great; 320
Hear all, weigh all with caution, I advise--
"Thou sniveler! is a slave a MAN? " she cries.
"He's innocent! be't so:--'tis my command,
My will; let that, sir, for a reason stand. "
Thus the virago triumphs, thus she reigns: 325
Anon she sickens of her first domains,
And seeks for new; husband on husband takes,
Till of her bridal veil one rent she makes.
Again she tires, again for change she burns,
And to the bed she lately left returns, 330
While the fresh garlands, and unfaded boughs,
Yet deck the portal of her wondering spouse.
Thus swells the list; EIGHT HUSBANDS IN FIVE YEARS:
A rare inscription for their sepulchres!
While your wife's mother lives, expect no peace. 335
She teaches her, with savage joy, to fleece
A bankrupt spouse: kind creature! she befriends
The lover's hopes, and, when her daughter sends
An answer to his prayer, the style inspects,
Softens the cruel, and the wrong corrects: 340
Experienced bawd! she blinds, or bribes all eyes,
And brings the adulterer, in despite of spies.
And now the farce begins; the lady falls
"Sick, sick, oh! sick;" and for the doctor calls:
Sweltering she lies, till the dull visit's o'er, 345
While the rank lecher, at the closet door
Lurking in silence, maddens with delay,
And in his own impatience melts away.
Nor count it strange: What mother e'er was known
To teach severer morals than her own? -- 350
No;--with their daughters' lusts they swell their stores,
And thrive as bawds when out of date as whores!
Women support the BAR; they love the law,
And raise litigious questions for a straw;
They meet in private, and prepare the Bill, 355
Draw up the Instructions with a lawyer's skill,
Suggest to Celsus where the merits lie,
And dictate points for statement or reply.
Nay, more, they FENCE! who has not marked their oil,
Their purple rugs, for this preposterous toil? 360
Room for the lady--lo! she seeks the list,
And fiercely tilts at her antagonist,
A post! which, with her buckler, she provokes,
And bores and batters with repeated strokes;
Till all the fencer's art can do she shows, 365
And the glad master interrupts her blows.
O worthy, sure, to head those wanton dames,
Who foot it naked at the Floral games;
Unless, with nobler daring, she aspire,
And tempt the arena's bloody field--for hire! 370
What sense of shame is to that female known,
Who envies our pursuits, and hates her own?
Yet would she not, though proud in arms to shine
(True woman still), her sex for ours resign;
For there's a thing she loves beyond compare, 375
And we, alas! have no advantage there. --
Heavens! with what glee a husband must behold
His wife's accoutrements, in public, sold;
And auctioneers displaying to the throng
Her crest, her belt, her gauntlet, and her thong! 380
Or, if in wilder frolics she engage,
And take her private lessons for the stage,
Then three-fold rapture must expand his breast,
To see her greaves "a-going" with the rest.
Yet these are they, the tender souls! who sweat 385
In muslin, and in silk expire with heat. --
Mark, with what force, as the full blow descends,
She thunders "hah! " again, how low she bends
Beneath the opposer's stroke; how firm she rests,
Poised on her hams, and every step contests: 390
How close tucked up for fight, behind, before,
Then laugh--to see her squat, when all is o'er!
Daughters of Lepidus, and Gurges old,
And blind Metellus, did ye e'er behold
Asylla (though a fencer's trull confess'd) 395
Tilt at a stake, thus impudently dress'd!
'Tis night; yet hope no slumbers with your wife;
The nuptial bed is still the scene of strife:
There lives the keen debate, the clamorous brawl,
And quiet "never comes, that comes to all. " 400
Fierce as a tigress plundered of her young,
Rage fires her breast, and loosens all her tongue,
When, conscious of her guilt, she feigns to groan,
And chides your loose amours, to hide her own;
Storms at the scandal of your baser flames, 405
And weeps her injuries from imagined names,
With tears that, marshaled, at their station stand,
And flow impassioned, as she gives command.
You think those showers her true affection prove,
And deem yourself--so happy in her love! 410
With fond caresses strive her heart to cheer,
And from her eyelids suck the starting tear:
--But could you now examine the scrutore
Of this most loving, this most jealous whore,
What amorous lays, what letters would you see, 415
Proofs, damning proofs, of her sincerity!
But these are doubtful--Put a clearer case:
Suppose her taken in a loose embrace,
A slave's or knight's. Now, my Quintilian, come,
And fashion an excuse. What! are you dumb? 420
Then, let the lady speak. "Was't not agreed
The MAN might please himself? " It was; proceed.
"Then, so may I"--O, Jupiter! "No oath:
MAN is a general term, and takes in both. "
When once surprised, the sex all shame forego; 425
And more audacious, as more guilty, grow.
Whence shall these prodigies of vice be traced?
From wealth, my friend. Our matrons then were chaste,
When days of labor, nights of short repose,
Hands still employed the Tuscan wool to tose, 430
Their husbands armed, and anxious for the State,
And Carthage hovering near the Colline gate,
Conspired to keep all thoughts of ill aloof,
And banished vice far from their lowly roof.
Now, all the evils of long peace are ours; 435
Luxury, more terrible than hostile powers,
Her baleful influence wide around has hurled,
And well avenged the subjugated world!
--Since Poverty, our better Genius, fled,
Vice, like a deluge, o'er the State has spread. 440
Now, shame to Rome! in every street are found
The essenced Sybarite, with roses crowned,
The gay Miletan, and the Tarentine,
Lewd, petulant, and reeling ripe with wine!
Wealth first, the ready pander to all sin, 445
Brought foreign manners, foreign vices in;
Enervate wealth, and with seductive art,
Sapped every homebred virtue of the heart;
Yes, every:--for what cares the drunken dame
(Take head or tail, to her 'tis just the same), 450
Who, at deep midnight, on fat oysters sups,
And froths with unguents her Falernian cups;
Who swallows oceans, till the tables rise,
And double lustres dance before her eyes!
Thus flushed, conceive, as Tullia homeward goes, 455
With what contempt she tosses up her nose
At Chastity's hoar fane! what impious jeers
Collatia pours in Maura's tingling ears!
Here stop their litters, here they all alight,
And squat together in the goddess' sight:-- 460
You pass, aroused at dawn your court to pay,
The loathsome scene of their licentious play.
Who knows not now, my friend, the secret rites
Of the GOOD GODDESS; when the dance excites
The boiling blood; when, to distraction wound, 465
By wine, and music's stimulating sound,
The mænads of Priapus, with wild air,
Howl horrible, and toss their flowing hair!
Then, how the wine at every pore o'erflows!
How the eye sparkles! how the bosom glows! 470
How the cheek burns! and, as the passions rise,
How the strong feeling bursts in eager cries! --
Saufeia now springs forth, and tries a fall
With the town prostitutes, and throws them all;
But yields, herself, to Medullina, known 475
For parts, and powers, superior to her own.
Maids, mistresses, alike the contest share,
And 'tis not always birth that triumphs there.
Nothing is feigned in this accursed game:
'Tis genuine all; and such as would inflame 480
The frozen age of Priam, and inspire
The ruptured, bedrid Nestor with desire.
Stung with their mimic feats, a hollow groan
Of lust breaks forth; the sex, the sex is shown!
And one loud yell re-echoes through the den, 485
"Now, now, 'tis lawful! now admit the men! "
There's none arrived. "Not yet! then scour the street,
And bring us quickly, here, the first you meet. "
There's none abroad. "Then fetch our slaves. " They're gone.
"Then hire a waterman. " There's none. "Not one!