" 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.
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.
Satires
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! "-- 490
Nature's strong barrier scarcely now restrains
The baffled fury in their boiling veins!
And would to heaven our ancient rites were free! --
But Africa and India, earth and sea,
Have heard, what singing-wench produced his ware, 495
Vast as two Anti Catos, there, even there,
Where the he-mouse, in reverence, lies concealed,
And every picture of a male is veiled.
And who was THEN a scoffer? who despised
The simple rites by infant Rome devised, 500
The wooden bowl of pious Numa's day,
The coarse brown dish, and pot of homely clay?
Now, woe the while! religion's in its wane;
And daring Clodii swarm in every fane.
I hear, old friends, I hear you: "Make all sure: 505
Let spies surround her, and let bolts secure. "
But who shall KEEP THE KEEPERS? Wives contemn
Our poor precautions, and begin with THEM.
Lust is the master passion; it inflames,
Alike, both high and low; alike, the dames, 510
Who, on tall Syrians' necks, their pomp display,
And those who pick, on foot, their miry way.
Whene'er Ogulnia to the Circus goes,
To emulate the rich, she hires her clothes,
Hires followers, friends, and cushions; hires a chair, 515
A nurse, and a trim girl, with golden hair,
To slip her billets:--prodigal and poor,
She wastes the wreck of her paternal store
On smooth-faced wrestlers; wastes her little all,
And strips her shivering mansion to the wall! 520
There's many a woman knows distress at home;
Not one who feels it, and, ere ruin come,
To her small means conforms. Taught by the ant,
Men sometimes guard against the extreme of want,
And stretch, though late, their providential fears, 525
To food and raiment for their future years:
But women never see their wealth decay;
With lavish hands they scatter night and day,
As if the gold, with vegetative power,
Would spring afresh, and bloom from hour to hour; 530
As if the mass its present size would keep,
And no expense reduce the eternal heap.
Others there are, who centre all their bliss
In the soft eunuch, and the beardless kiss:
They need not from his chin avert their face, 535
Nor use abortive drugs, for his embrace.
But oh! their joys run high, if he be formed,
When his full veins the fire of love has warmed;
When every part's to full perfection reared,
And naught of manhood wanting, but the beard. 540
But should the dame in music take delight,
The public singer is disabled quite:
In vain the prætor guards him all he can;
She slips the buckle, and enjoys her man.
Still in her hand his instrument is found, 545
Thick set with gems, that shed a lustre round;
Still o'er his lyre the ivory quill she flings,
Still runs divisions on the trembling strings,
The trembling strings, which the loved Hedymel
Was wont to strike--so sweetly, and so well! 550
These still she holds, with these she soothes her woes,
And kisses on the dear, dear wire bestows.
A noble matron of the Lamian line
Inquired of Janus (offering meal and wine)
If Pollio, at the Harmonic Games, would speed, 555
And wear the oaken crown, the victor's meed!
What could she for a husband, more, have done,
What for an only, an expiring son?
Yes; for a harper, the besotted dame
Approached the altar, reckless of her fame, 560
And veiled her head, and, with a pious air,
Followed the Aruspex through the form of prayer;
And trembled, and turned pale, as he explored
The entrails, breathless for the fatal word!
But, tell me, father Janus, if you please, 565
Tell me, most ancient of the deities,
Is your attention to such suppliants given?
If so--there is not much to do in heaven!
For a comedian, this consults your will,
For a tragedian, that; kept standing, still, 570
By this eternal route, the wretched priest
Feels his legs swell, and dies to be releas'd.
But let her rather sing, than roam the streets,
And thrust herself in every crowd she meets;
Chat with great generals, though her lord be there, 575
With lawless eye, bold front, and bosom bare.
She, too, with curiosity o'erflows,
And all the news of all the world she knows;
Knows what in Scythia, what in Thrace is done;
The secrets of the step-dame and the son; 580
Who speeds, and who is jilted: and can swear, }
Who made the widow pregnant, when and where, }
And what she said, and how she frolicked there. -- }
She first espied the star, whose baleful ray,
O'er Parthia, and Armenia, shed dismay: 585
She watches at the gates, for news to come,
And intercepts it, as it enters Rome;
Then, fraught with full intelligence, she flies
Through every street, and, mingling truth with lies,
Tells how Niphates bore down every mound, 590
And poured his desolating flood around;
How earth, convulsed, disclosed its caverns hoar,
And cities trembled, and--were seen no more!
And yet this itch, though never to be cured,
Is easier, than her cruelty, endured. 595
Should a poor neighbor's dog but discompose
Her rest a moment, wild with rage she grows;
"Ho! whips," she cries, "and flay that brute accurs'd;"
"But flay that rascal there, who owns him, first. "
Dangerous to meet while in these frantic airs, 600
And terrible to look at, she prepares
To bathe at night; she issues her commands,
And in long ranks forth poor the obedient bands,
With tubs, cloths, oils:--for 'tis her dear delight
To sweat in clamor, tumult, and affright. 605
When her tired arms refuse the balls to ply,
And the lewd bath-keeper has rubbed her dry,
She calls to mind each miserable guest,
Long since with hunger, and with sleep oppress'd,
And hurries home; all glowing, all athirst, 610
For wine, whole flasks of wine! and swallows, first,
Two quarts, to clear her stomach, and excite
A ravenous, an unbounded appetite!
Huisch! up it comes, good heavens! meat, drink, and all,
And flows in purple torrents round the hall; 615
Or a gilt ewer receives the foul contents,
And poisons all the house with vinous scents.
So, dropp'd into a vat, a snake is said
To drink and spew:--the husband turns his head,
Sick to the soul, from this disgusting scene, 620
And struggles to suppress his rising spleen.
But she is more intolerable yet,
Who plays the critic when at table set;
Calls Virgil charming, and attempts to prove
Poor Dido right, in venturing all for love. 625
From Maro, and Mæonides, she quotes
The striking passages, and, while she notes
Their beauties and defects, adjusts her scales,
And accurately weighs which bard prevails.
The astonished guests sit mute: grammarians yield, 630
Loud rhetoricians, baffled, quit the field;
Even auctioneers and lawyers stand aghast,
And not a woman speaks! --So thick, and fast,
The wordy shower descends, that you would swear
A thousand bells were jangling in your ear, 635
A thousand basins clattering. Vex no more
Your trumpets and your timbrels, as of yore,
To ease the laboring moon; her single yell
Can drown their clangor, and dissolve the spell.
She lectures too in Ethics, and declaims 640
On the CHIEF GOOD! --but, surely, she who aims
To seem too learn'd, should take the male array;
A hog, due offering, to Sylvanus slay,
And, with the Stoic's privilege, repair
To farthing baths, and strip in public there! 645
Oh, never may the partner of my bed
With subtleties of logic stuff her head;
Nor whirl her rapid syllogisms around,
Nor with imperfect enthymemes confound!
Enough for me, if common things she know, 650
And boast the little learning schools bestow.
I hate the female pedagogue, who pores
O'er her Palæmon hourly; who explores
All modes of speech, regardless of the sense,
But tremblingly alive to mood and tense: 655
Who puzzles me with many an uncouth phrase,
From some old canticle of Numa's days;
Corrects her country friends, and can not hear
Her husband solecize without a sneer!
A woman stops at nothing, when she wears 660
Rich emeralds round her neck, and in her ears
Pearls of enormous size; these justify
Her faults, and make all lawful in her eye.
Sure, of all ills with which mankind are curs'd,
A wife who brings you money is the worst. 665
Behold! her face a spectacle appears,
Bloated, and foul, and plastered to the ears
With viscous paste:--the husband looks askew,
And sticks his lips in this detested glue.
She meets the adulterer bathed, perfumed, and dress'd, 670
But rots in filth at home, a very pest!
For him she breathes of nard; for him alone
She makes the sweets of Araby her own;
For him, at length, she ventures to uncase,
Scales the first layer of roughcast from her face, 675
And, while the maids to know her now begin,
Clears, with that precious milk, her frouzy skin,
For which, though exiled to the frozen main,
She'd lead a drove of asses in her train!
But tell me yet; this thing, thus daubed and oiled, 680
Thus poulticed, plastered, baked by turns and boiled,
Thus with pomatums, ointments, lackered o'er,
Is it a FACE, Ursidius, or a SORE?
'Tis worth a little labor to survey
Our wives more near and trace 'em through the day. 685
If, dreadful to relate! the night foregone,
The husband turned his back, or lay alone,
All, all is lost; the housekeeper is stripped,
The tiremaid chidden, and the chairman whipped:
Rods, cords, and thongs avenge the master's sleep, 690
And force the guiltless house to wake and weep.
There are, who hire a beadle by the year,
To lash their servants round; who, pleased to hear
The eternal thong, bid him lay on, while they,
At perfect ease, the silkman's stores survey, 695
Chat with their female gossips, or replace
The cracked enamel on their treacherous face.
No respite yet:--they leisurely hum o'er
The countless _items_ of the day before,
And bid him still lay on; till, faint with toil, 700
He drops the scourge; when, with a rancorous smile,
"Begone! " they thunder in a horrid tone,
"Now your accounts are settled, rogues, begone! "
But should she wish with nicer care to dress,
And now the hour of assignation press 705
(Whether the adulterer for her coming wait
In Isis' fane, to bawdry consecrate,
Or in Lucullus' walks), the house appears
A true Sicilian court, all gloom and tears.
The wretched Psecas, for the whip prepared, 710
With locks disheveled, and with shoulders bared,
Attempts her hair: fire flashes from her eyes,
And, "Strumpet! why this curl so high? " she cries.
Instant the lash, without remorse, is plied,
And the blood stains her bosom, back, and side. 715
But why this fury? --Is the girl to blame,
If your air shocks you, or your features shame?
Another, trembling, on the left prepares
To open and arrange the straggling hairs
In ringlets trim: meanwhile, the council meet: 720
And first the nurse, a personage discreet,
Late from the toilet to the wheel removed
(The effect of time), yet still of taste approved,
Gives her opinion: then the rest, in course,
As age, or practice, lends their judgment force. 725
So warm they grow, and so much pains they take,
You'd think her honor or her life at stake!
So high they build her head, such tiers on tiers,
With wary hands, they pile, that she appears,
Andromache, before:--and what behind? 730
A dwarf, a creature of a different kind. --
Meanwhile, engrossed by these important cares,
She thinks not on her lord's distress'd affairs,
Scarce on himself; but leads a separate life,
As if she were his neighbor, not his wife? 735
Or, but in this--that all control she braves;
Hates where he loves, and squanders where he saves.
Room for Bellona's frantic votaries! room
For Cybele's mad enthusiasts! lo, they come!
A lusty semivir, whose part obscene, 740
A broken shell has severed smooth and clean,
A raw-boned, mitred priest, whom the whole choir
Of curtailed priestlings reverence and admire,
Enters, with his wild rout; and bids the fair
Of autumn, and its sultry blasts, beware, 745
Unless she lustrate, with an hundred eggs,
Her household straight:--then, impudently begs
Her cast-off clothes, that every plague they fear
May enter them, and expiate all the year!
But lo! another tribe! at whose command, 750
See her, in winter, near the Tiber stand,
Break the thick ice, and, ere the sun appears,
Plunge in the crashing eddy to the ears;
Then, shivering from the keen and eager breeze,
Crawl round the banks, on bare and bleeding knees. 755
Should milkwhite Iö bid, from Meroë's isle
She'd fetch the sunburnt waters of the Nile,
To sprinkle in her fane; for she, it seems,
Has heavenly visitations in her dreams--
Mark the pure soul, with whom the gods delight 760
To hold high converse at the noon of night!
For this she cherishes, above the rest,
Her Iö's favorite priest, a knave profess'd,
A holy hypocrite, who strolls abroad,
With his Anubis, his dog-headed god! 765
Girt by a linen-clad, a bald-pate crew
Of howling vagrants, who their cries renew
In every street, as up and down they run,
To find OSIRE, fit father to fit son!
He sues for pardon, when the liquorish dame 770
Abstains not from the interdicted game
On high and solemn days; for great the crime,
To stain the nuptial couch at such a time,
And great the atonement due;--the silver snake,
Abhorrent of the deed, was seen to quake! 775
Yet he prevails:--Osiris hears his prayers,
And, softened by a goose, the culprit spares.
Without her badge, a Jewess now draws near,
And, trembling, begs a trifle in her ear.
No common personage! she knows full well 780
The laws of Solyma, and she can tell
The dark decrees of heaven; a priestess she,
An hierarch of the consecrated tree!
Moved by these claims thus modestly set forth,
She gives her a few coins of little worth; 785
For Jews are moderate, and, for farthing fees,
Will sell what fortune, or what dreams you please.
The prophetess dismissed, a Syrian sage
Now enters, and explores the future page,
In a dove's entrails: there he sees express'd 790
A youthful lover: there, a rich bequest,
From some kind dotard: then a chick he takes,
And in its breast, and in a puppy's, rakes,
And sometimes in--an infant's: he will teach
The art to others, and, when taught, impeach! 795
But chiefly in Chaldeans she believes:
Whate'er they say, with reverence she receives,
As if from Hammon's secret fount it came;
Since Delphi now, if we may credit fame,
Gives no responses, and a long dark night 800
Conceals the future hour from mortal sight.
Of these, the chief (such credit guilt obtains! )
Is he, who, banished oft, and oft in chains,
Stands forth the veriest knave; he who foretold
The death of Galba--to his rival sold! 805
No juggler must for fame or profit hope,
Who has not narrowly escaped the rope;
Begged hard for exile, and, by special grace,
Obtained confinement in some desert place. --
To him your Tanaquil applies, in doubt 810
How long her jaundiced mother may hold out;
But first, how long her husband: next, inquires,
When she shall follow, to their funeral pyres,
Her sisters, and her uncles; last, if fate
Will kindly lengthen out the adulterer's date 815
Beyond her own;--content, if he but live,
And sure that heaven has nothing more to give!
Yet she may still be suffered; for, what woes
The louring aspect of old Saturn shows;
Or in what sign bright Venus ought to rise, 820
To shed her mildest influence from the skies;
Or what fore-fated month to gain is given,
And what to loss (the mysteries of heaven),
She knows not, nor pretends to know: but flee
The dame, whose Manual of Astrology 825
Still dangles at her side, smooth as chafed gum,
And fretted by her everlasting thumb! --
Deep in the science now, she leaves her mate
To go, or stay; but will not share his fate,
Withheld by trines and sextiles; she will look, 830
Before her chair be ordered, in the book,
For the fit hour; an itching eye endure,
Nor, till her scheme be raised, attempt the cure;
Nay, languishing in bed, receive no meat,
Till Petosyris bid her rise and eat. 835
The curse is universal: high and low
Are mad alike the future hour to know.
The rich consult a Babylonian seer,
Skilled in the mysteries of either sphere;
Or a gray-headed priest, hired by the state, 840
To watch the lightning, and to expiate.
The middle sort, a quack, at whose command
They lift the forehead, and make bare the hand;
While the sly lecher in the table pries,
And claps it wantonly, with gloating eyes. 845
The poor apply to humbler cheats, still found
Beside the Circus wall, or city mound;
While she, whose neck no golden trinket bears,
To the dry ditch, or dolphin's tower, repairs,
And anxiously inquires which she shall choose, 850
The tapster, or old-clothes man? which refuse?
Yet these the pangs of childbirth undergo,
And all the yearnings of a mother know;
These, urged by want, assume the nurse's care,
And learn to breed the children which they bear. 855
Those shun both toil and danger; for, though sped,
The wealthy dame is seldom brought to bed:
Such the dire power of drugs, and such the skill
They boast, to cause miscarriages at will!
Weep'st thou? O fool! the blest invention hail, 860
And give the potion, if the gossips fail;
For, should thy wife her nine months' burden bear,
An Æthiop's offspring might thy fortunes heir;
A sooty thing, fit only to affray,
And, seen at morn, to poison all the day! 865
Supposititious breeds, the hope and joy
Of fond, believing husbands, I pass by;
The beggars' bantlings, spawned in open air,
And left by some pond side, to perish there. --
From hence your Flamens, hence your Salians come; 870
Your Scauri, chiefs and magistrates of Rome!
Fortune stands tittering by, in playful mood,
And smiles, complacent, on the sprawling brood;
Takes them all naked to her fostering arms,
Feeds from her mouth, and in her bosom warms: 875
Then, to the mansions of the great she bears
The precious brats, and, for herself, prepares
A secret farce; adopts them for her own:
And, when her nurslings are to manhood grown,
She brings them forth, rejoiced to see them sped, 880
And wealth and honors dropping on their head!
Some purchase charms, some, more pernicious still,
Thessalian philters, to subdue the will
Of an uxorious spouse, and make him bear
Blows, insults, all a saucy wife can dare. 885
Hence that swift lapse to second childhood; hence
Those vapors which envelop every sense;
This strange forgetfulness from hour to hour;
And well, if this be all:--more fatal power,
More terrible effects, the dose may have, 890
And force you, like Caligula, to rave,
When his Cæsonia squeezed into the bowl
The dire excrescence of a new-dropp'd foal. --
Then Uproar rose; the universal chain
Of Order snapped, and Anarchy's wild reign 895
Came on apace, as if the queen of heaven
Had fired the Thunderer, and to madness driven.
Thy mushroom, Agrippine! was innocent,
To this accursed draught; that only sent
One palsied, bedrid sot, with gummy eyes, 900
And slavering lips, heels foremost to the skies:
This, to wild fury roused a bloody mind,
And called for fire and sword; this potion joined
In one promiscuous slaughter high and low,
And leveled half the nation at a blow. 905
Such is the power of philters! such the ill,
One sorceress can effect by wicked skill!
They hate their husband's spurious issue:--this,
If this were all, were not, perhaps, amiss:
But they go farther; and 'tis now some time 910
Since poisoning sons-in-law scarce seemed a crime.
Mark then, ye fatherless! what I advise,
And trust, O, trust no dainties, if you're wise:
Ye heirs to large estates! touch not that fare,
Your mother's fingers have been busy there; 915
See! it looks livid, swollen:--O check your haste,
And let your wary fosterfather taste,
Whate'er she sets before you: fear her meat,
And be the first to look, the last to eat.
But this is fiction all! I pass the bound 920
Of Satire, and encroach on Tragic ground!
Deserting truth, I choose a fabled theme,
And, like the buskined bards of Greece, declaim,
In deep-mouthed tones, in swelling strains, on crimes
As yet unknown to our Rutulian climes! 925
Would it were so! but Pontia cries aloud,
"No, I performed it. " See! the fact's avowed--
"I mingled poison for my children, I;
'Twas found upon me, wherefore then deny? "
What, two at once, most barbarous viper! two! 930
"Nay, seven, had seven been mine: believe it true! "
Now let us credit what the tragic stage
Displays of Progne and Medea's rage;
Crimes of dire name, which, disbelieved of yore,
Become familiar, and revolt no more; 935
Those ancient dames in scenes of blood were bold,
And wrought fell deeds, but not, as ours, for gold:--
In every age, we view, with less surprise,
Such horrors as from bursts of fury rise,
When stormy passions, scorning all control, 940
Rend the mad bosom, and unseat the soul.
As when impetuous winds, and driving rain,
Mine some huge rock that overhangs the plain,
The cumbrous mass descends with thundering force,
And spreads resistless ruin in its course. 945
Curse on the woman, who reflects by fits,
And in cold blood her cruelties commits! --
They see, upon the stage, the Grecian wife
Redeeming with her own her husband's life;
Yet, in her place, would willingly deprive 950
Their lords of breath to keep their dogs alive!
Abroad, at home, the Belides you meet,
And Clytemnestras swarm in every street;
But here the difference lies:--those bungling wives,
With a blunt axe hacked out their husbands' lives; 955
While now, the deed is done with dexterous art,
And a drugged bowl performs the axe's part.
Yet, if the husband, prescient of his fate,
Have fortified his breast with mithridate,
She baffles him e'en there, and has recourse 960
To the old weapon for a last resource.
SATIRE VII.
TO TELESINUS.
Yes, all the hopes of learning, 'tis confess'd,
And all the patronage, on CÆSAR rest:
For he alone the drooping Nine regards--
When, now, our best, and most illustrious bards,
Quit their ungrateful studies, and retire, 5
Bagnios and bakehouses, for bread, to hire;
With humbled views, a life of toil embrace,
And deem a crier's business no disgrace;
Since Clio, driven by hunger from the shade,
Mixes in crowds, and bustles for a trade. 10
And truly, if (the bard's too frequent curse)
No coin be found in your Pierian purse,
'Twere not ill done to copy, for the nonce,
Machæra, and turn auctioneer at once.
Hie, my poetic friend; in accents loud, 15
Commend your precious lumber to the crowd,
Old tubs, stools, presses, wrecks of many a chest,
Paccius' damned plays, Thebes, Tereus, and the rest. --
And better so--than haunt the courts of law,
And swear, for hire, to what you never saw: 20
Leave this resource to Cappadocian knights,
To Gallogreeks, and such new-fangled wights,
As want, or infamy, has chased from home,
And driven, in barefoot multitudes, to Rome.
Come, my brave youths! --the genuine sons of rhyme, 25
Who, in sweet numbers, couch the true sublime,
Shall, from this hour, no more their fate accuse,
Or stoop to pains unworthy of the Muse.
Come, my brave youths! your tuneful labors ply,
Secure of favor; lo! the imperial eye 30
Looks round, attentive, on each rising bard,
For worth to praise, for genius to reward!
But if for other patronage you look,
And therefore write, and therefore swell your book,
Quick, call for wood, and let the flames devour 35
The hapless produce of the studious hour;
Or lock it up, to moths and worms a prey,
And break your pens, and fling your ink away:--
Or pour it rather o'er your epic flights,
Your battles, sieges (fruit of sleepless nights), 40
Pour it, mistaken men, who rack your brains
In dungeons, cocklofts, for heroic strains;
Who toil and sweat to purchase mere renown,
A meagre statue, and an ivy crown!
Here bound your expectations: for the great, 45
Grown, wisely, covetous, have learned, of late,
To praise, and ONLY praise, the high-wrought strain,
As boys, the bird of Juno's glittering train.
Meanwhile those vigorous years, so fit to bear
The toils of agriculture, commerce, war, 50
Spent in this idle trade, decline apace,
And age, unthought of, stares you in the face:--
O then, appalled to find your better days
Have earned you naught but poverty and praise,
At all your barren glories you repine, 55
And curse, too late, the unavailing Nine!
Hear, now, what sneaking ways your patrons find,
To save their darling gold:--they pay in kind!
Verses, composed in every Muse's spite,
To the starved bard, they, in their turn, recite; 60
And, if they yield to Homer, let him know,
'Tis--that he lived a thousand years ago!
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! "-- 490
Nature's strong barrier scarcely now restrains
The baffled fury in their boiling veins!
And would to heaven our ancient rites were free! --
But Africa and India, earth and sea,
Have heard, what singing-wench produced his ware, 495
Vast as two Anti Catos, there, even there,
Where the he-mouse, in reverence, lies concealed,
And every picture of a male is veiled.
And who was THEN a scoffer? who despised
The simple rites by infant Rome devised, 500
The wooden bowl of pious Numa's day,
The coarse brown dish, and pot of homely clay?
Now, woe the while! religion's in its wane;
And daring Clodii swarm in every fane.
I hear, old friends, I hear you: "Make all sure: 505
Let spies surround her, and let bolts secure. "
But who shall KEEP THE KEEPERS? Wives contemn
Our poor precautions, and begin with THEM.
Lust is the master passion; it inflames,
Alike, both high and low; alike, the dames, 510
Who, on tall Syrians' necks, their pomp display,
And those who pick, on foot, their miry way.
Whene'er Ogulnia to the Circus goes,
To emulate the rich, she hires her clothes,
Hires followers, friends, and cushions; hires a chair, 515
A nurse, and a trim girl, with golden hair,
To slip her billets:--prodigal and poor,
She wastes the wreck of her paternal store
On smooth-faced wrestlers; wastes her little all,
And strips her shivering mansion to the wall! 520
There's many a woman knows distress at home;
Not one who feels it, and, ere ruin come,
To her small means conforms. Taught by the ant,
Men sometimes guard against the extreme of want,
And stretch, though late, their providential fears, 525
To food and raiment for their future years:
But women never see their wealth decay;
With lavish hands they scatter night and day,
As if the gold, with vegetative power,
Would spring afresh, and bloom from hour to hour; 530
As if the mass its present size would keep,
And no expense reduce the eternal heap.
Others there are, who centre all their bliss
In the soft eunuch, and the beardless kiss:
They need not from his chin avert their face, 535
Nor use abortive drugs, for his embrace.
But oh! their joys run high, if he be formed,
When his full veins the fire of love has warmed;
When every part's to full perfection reared,
And naught of manhood wanting, but the beard. 540
But should the dame in music take delight,
The public singer is disabled quite:
In vain the prætor guards him all he can;
She slips the buckle, and enjoys her man.
Still in her hand his instrument is found, 545
Thick set with gems, that shed a lustre round;
Still o'er his lyre the ivory quill she flings,
Still runs divisions on the trembling strings,
The trembling strings, which the loved Hedymel
Was wont to strike--so sweetly, and so well! 550
These still she holds, with these she soothes her woes,
And kisses on the dear, dear wire bestows.
A noble matron of the Lamian line
Inquired of Janus (offering meal and wine)
If Pollio, at the Harmonic Games, would speed, 555
And wear the oaken crown, the victor's meed!
What could she for a husband, more, have done,
What for an only, an expiring son?
Yes; for a harper, the besotted dame
Approached the altar, reckless of her fame, 560
And veiled her head, and, with a pious air,
Followed the Aruspex through the form of prayer;
And trembled, and turned pale, as he explored
The entrails, breathless for the fatal word!
But, tell me, father Janus, if you please, 565
Tell me, most ancient of the deities,
Is your attention to such suppliants given?
If so--there is not much to do in heaven!
For a comedian, this consults your will,
For a tragedian, that; kept standing, still, 570
By this eternal route, the wretched priest
Feels his legs swell, and dies to be releas'd.
But let her rather sing, than roam the streets,
And thrust herself in every crowd she meets;
Chat with great generals, though her lord be there, 575
With lawless eye, bold front, and bosom bare.
She, too, with curiosity o'erflows,
And all the news of all the world she knows;
Knows what in Scythia, what in Thrace is done;
The secrets of the step-dame and the son; 580
Who speeds, and who is jilted: and can swear, }
Who made the widow pregnant, when and where, }
And what she said, and how she frolicked there. -- }
She first espied the star, whose baleful ray,
O'er Parthia, and Armenia, shed dismay: 585
She watches at the gates, for news to come,
And intercepts it, as it enters Rome;
Then, fraught with full intelligence, she flies
Through every street, and, mingling truth with lies,
Tells how Niphates bore down every mound, 590
And poured his desolating flood around;
How earth, convulsed, disclosed its caverns hoar,
And cities trembled, and--were seen no more!
And yet this itch, though never to be cured,
Is easier, than her cruelty, endured. 595
Should a poor neighbor's dog but discompose
Her rest a moment, wild with rage she grows;
"Ho! whips," she cries, "and flay that brute accurs'd;"
"But flay that rascal there, who owns him, first. "
Dangerous to meet while in these frantic airs, 600
And terrible to look at, she prepares
To bathe at night; she issues her commands,
And in long ranks forth poor the obedient bands,
With tubs, cloths, oils:--for 'tis her dear delight
To sweat in clamor, tumult, and affright. 605
When her tired arms refuse the balls to ply,
And the lewd bath-keeper has rubbed her dry,
She calls to mind each miserable guest,
Long since with hunger, and with sleep oppress'd,
And hurries home; all glowing, all athirst, 610
For wine, whole flasks of wine! and swallows, first,
Two quarts, to clear her stomach, and excite
A ravenous, an unbounded appetite!
Huisch! up it comes, good heavens! meat, drink, and all,
And flows in purple torrents round the hall; 615
Or a gilt ewer receives the foul contents,
And poisons all the house with vinous scents.
So, dropp'd into a vat, a snake is said
To drink and spew:--the husband turns his head,
Sick to the soul, from this disgusting scene, 620
And struggles to suppress his rising spleen.
But she is more intolerable yet,
Who plays the critic when at table set;
Calls Virgil charming, and attempts to prove
Poor Dido right, in venturing all for love. 625
From Maro, and Mæonides, she quotes
The striking passages, and, while she notes
Their beauties and defects, adjusts her scales,
And accurately weighs which bard prevails.
The astonished guests sit mute: grammarians yield, 630
Loud rhetoricians, baffled, quit the field;
Even auctioneers and lawyers stand aghast,
And not a woman speaks! --So thick, and fast,
The wordy shower descends, that you would swear
A thousand bells were jangling in your ear, 635
A thousand basins clattering. Vex no more
Your trumpets and your timbrels, as of yore,
To ease the laboring moon; her single yell
Can drown their clangor, and dissolve the spell.
She lectures too in Ethics, and declaims 640
On the CHIEF GOOD! --but, surely, she who aims
To seem too learn'd, should take the male array;
A hog, due offering, to Sylvanus slay,
And, with the Stoic's privilege, repair
To farthing baths, and strip in public there! 645
Oh, never may the partner of my bed
With subtleties of logic stuff her head;
Nor whirl her rapid syllogisms around,
Nor with imperfect enthymemes confound!
Enough for me, if common things she know, 650
And boast the little learning schools bestow.
I hate the female pedagogue, who pores
O'er her Palæmon hourly; who explores
All modes of speech, regardless of the sense,
But tremblingly alive to mood and tense: 655
Who puzzles me with many an uncouth phrase,
From some old canticle of Numa's days;
Corrects her country friends, and can not hear
Her husband solecize without a sneer!
A woman stops at nothing, when she wears 660
Rich emeralds round her neck, and in her ears
Pearls of enormous size; these justify
Her faults, and make all lawful in her eye.
Sure, of all ills with which mankind are curs'd,
A wife who brings you money is the worst. 665
Behold! her face a spectacle appears,
Bloated, and foul, and plastered to the ears
With viscous paste:--the husband looks askew,
And sticks his lips in this detested glue.
She meets the adulterer bathed, perfumed, and dress'd, 670
But rots in filth at home, a very pest!
For him she breathes of nard; for him alone
She makes the sweets of Araby her own;
For him, at length, she ventures to uncase,
Scales the first layer of roughcast from her face, 675
And, while the maids to know her now begin,
Clears, with that precious milk, her frouzy skin,
For which, though exiled to the frozen main,
She'd lead a drove of asses in her train!
But tell me yet; this thing, thus daubed and oiled, 680
Thus poulticed, plastered, baked by turns and boiled,
Thus with pomatums, ointments, lackered o'er,
Is it a FACE, Ursidius, or a SORE?
'Tis worth a little labor to survey
Our wives more near and trace 'em through the day. 685
If, dreadful to relate! the night foregone,
The husband turned his back, or lay alone,
All, all is lost; the housekeeper is stripped,
The tiremaid chidden, and the chairman whipped:
Rods, cords, and thongs avenge the master's sleep, 690
And force the guiltless house to wake and weep.
There are, who hire a beadle by the year,
To lash their servants round; who, pleased to hear
The eternal thong, bid him lay on, while they,
At perfect ease, the silkman's stores survey, 695
Chat with their female gossips, or replace
The cracked enamel on their treacherous face.
No respite yet:--they leisurely hum o'er
The countless _items_ of the day before,
And bid him still lay on; till, faint with toil, 700
He drops the scourge; when, with a rancorous smile,
"Begone! " they thunder in a horrid tone,
"Now your accounts are settled, rogues, begone! "
But should she wish with nicer care to dress,
And now the hour of assignation press 705
(Whether the adulterer for her coming wait
In Isis' fane, to bawdry consecrate,
Or in Lucullus' walks), the house appears
A true Sicilian court, all gloom and tears.
The wretched Psecas, for the whip prepared, 710
With locks disheveled, and with shoulders bared,
Attempts her hair: fire flashes from her eyes,
And, "Strumpet! why this curl so high? " she cries.
Instant the lash, without remorse, is plied,
And the blood stains her bosom, back, and side. 715
But why this fury? --Is the girl to blame,
If your air shocks you, or your features shame?
Another, trembling, on the left prepares
To open and arrange the straggling hairs
In ringlets trim: meanwhile, the council meet: 720
And first the nurse, a personage discreet,
Late from the toilet to the wheel removed
(The effect of time), yet still of taste approved,
Gives her opinion: then the rest, in course,
As age, or practice, lends their judgment force. 725
So warm they grow, and so much pains they take,
You'd think her honor or her life at stake!
So high they build her head, such tiers on tiers,
With wary hands, they pile, that she appears,
Andromache, before:--and what behind? 730
A dwarf, a creature of a different kind. --
Meanwhile, engrossed by these important cares,
She thinks not on her lord's distress'd affairs,
Scarce on himself; but leads a separate life,
As if she were his neighbor, not his wife? 735
Or, but in this--that all control she braves;
Hates where he loves, and squanders where he saves.
Room for Bellona's frantic votaries! room
For Cybele's mad enthusiasts! lo, they come!
A lusty semivir, whose part obscene, 740
A broken shell has severed smooth and clean,
A raw-boned, mitred priest, whom the whole choir
Of curtailed priestlings reverence and admire,
Enters, with his wild rout; and bids the fair
Of autumn, and its sultry blasts, beware, 745
Unless she lustrate, with an hundred eggs,
Her household straight:--then, impudently begs
Her cast-off clothes, that every plague they fear
May enter them, and expiate all the year!
But lo! another tribe! at whose command, 750
See her, in winter, near the Tiber stand,
Break the thick ice, and, ere the sun appears,
Plunge in the crashing eddy to the ears;
Then, shivering from the keen and eager breeze,
Crawl round the banks, on bare and bleeding knees. 755
Should milkwhite Iö bid, from Meroë's isle
She'd fetch the sunburnt waters of the Nile,
To sprinkle in her fane; for she, it seems,
Has heavenly visitations in her dreams--
Mark the pure soul, with whom the gods delight 760
To hold high converse at the noon of night!
For this she cherishes, above the rest,
Her Iö's favorite priest, a knave profess'd,
A holy hypocrite, who strolls abroad,
With his Anubis, his dog-headed god! 765
Girt by a linen-clad, a bald-pate crew
Of howling vagrants, who their cries renew
In every street, as up and down they run,
To find OSIRE, fit father to fit son!
He sues for pardon, when the liquorish dame 770
Abstains not from the interdicted game
On high and solemn days; for great the crime,
To stain the nuptial couch at such a time,
And great the atonement due;--the silver snake,
Abhorrent of the deed, was seen to quake! 775
Yet he prevails:--Osiris hears his prayers,
And, softened by a goose, the culprit spares.
Without her badge, a Jewess now draws near,
And, trembling, begs a trifle in her ear.
No common personage! she knows full well 780
The laws of Solyma, and she can tell
The dark decrees of heaven; a priestess she,
An hierarch of the consecrated tree!
Moved by these claims thus modestly set forth,
She gives her a few coins of little worth; 785
For Jews are moderate, and, for farthing fees,
Will sell what fortune, or what dreams you please.
The prophetess dismissed, a Syrian sage
Now enters, and explores the future page,
In a dove's entrails: there he sees express'd 790
A youthful lover: there, a rich bequest,
From some kind dotard: then a chick he takes,
And in its breast, and in a puppy's, rakes,
And sometimes in--an infant's: he will teach
The art to others, and, when taught, impeach! 795
But chiefly in Chaldeans she believes:
Whate'er they say, with reverence she receives,
As if from Hammon's secret fount it came;
Since Delphi now, if we may credit fame,
Gives no responses, and a long dark night 800
Conceals the future hour from mortal sight.
Of these, the chief (such credit guilt obtains! )
Is he, who, banished oft, and oft in chains,
Stands forth the veriest knave; he who foretold
The death of Galba--to his rival sold! 805
No juggler must for fame or profit hope,
Who has not narrowly escaped the rope;
Begged hard for exile, and, by special grace,
Obtained confinement in some desert place. --
To him your Tanaquil applies, in doubt 810
How long her jaundiced mother may hold out;
But first, how long her husband: next, inquires,
When she shall follow, to their funeral pyres,
Her sisters, and her uncles; last, if fate
Will kindly lengthen out the adulterer's date 815
Beyond her own;--content, if he but live,
And sure that heaven has nothing more to give!
Yet she may still be suffered; for, what woes
The louring aspect of old Saturn shows;
Or in what sign bright Venus ought to rise, 820
To shed her mildest influence from the skies;
Or what fore-fated month to gain is given,
And what to loss (the mysteries of heaven),
She knows not, nor pretends to know: but flee
The dame, whose Manual of Astrology 825
Still dangles at her side, smooth as chafed gum,
And fretted by her everlasting thumb! --
Deep in the science now, she leaves her mate
To go, or stay; but will not share his fate,
Withheld by trines and sextiles; she will look, 830
Before her chair be ordered, in the book,
For the fit hour; an itching eye endure,
Nor, till her scheme be raised, attempt the cure;
Nay, languishing in bed, receive no meat,
Till Petosyris bid her rise and eat. 835
The curse is universal: high and low
Are mad alike the future hour to know.
The rich consult a Babylonian seer,
Skilled in the mysteries of either sphere;
Or a gray-headed priest, hired by the state, 840
To watch the lightning, and to expiate.
The middle sort, a quack, at whose command
They lift the forehead, and make bare the hand;
While the sly lecher in the table pries,
And claps it wantonly, with gloating eyes. 845
The poor apply to humbler cheats, still found
Beside the Circus wall, or city mound;
While she, whose neck no golden trinket bears,
To the dry ditch, or dolphin's tower, repairs,
And anxiously inquires which she shall choose, 850
The tapster, or old-clothes man? which refuse?
Yet these the pangs of childbirth undergo,
And all the yearnings of a mother know;
These, urged by want, assume the nurse's care,
And learn to breed the children which they bear. 855
Those shun both toil and danger; for, though sped,
The wealthy dame is seldom brought to bed:
Such the dire power of drugs, and such the skill
They boast, to cause miscarriages at will!
Weep'st thou? O fool! the blest invention hail, 860
And give the potion, if the gossips fail;
For, should thy wife her nine months' burden bear,
An Æthiop's offspring might thy fortunes heir;
A sooty thing, fit only to affray,
And, seen at morn, to poison all the day! 865
Supposititious breeds, the hope and joy
Of fond, believing husbands, I pass by;
The beggars' bantlings, spawned in open air,
And left by some pond side, to perish there. --
From hence your Flamens, hence your Salians come; 870
Your Scauri, chiefs and magistrates of Rome!
Fortune stands tittering by, in playful mood,
And smiles, complacent, on the sprawling brood;
Takes them all naked to her fostering arms,
Feeds from her mouth, and in her bosom warms: 875
Then, to the mansions of the great she bears
The precious brats, and, for herself, prepares
A secret farce; adopts them for her own:
And, when her nurslings are to manhood grown,
She brings them forth, rejoiced to see them sped, 880
And wealth and honors dropping on their head!
Some purchase charms, some, more pernicious still,
Thessalian philters, to subdue the will
Of an uxorious spouse, and make him bear
Blows, insults, all a saucy wife can dare. 885
Hence that swift lapse to second childhood; hence
Those vapors which envelop every sense;
This strange forgetfulness from hour to hour;
And well, if this be all:--more fatal power,
More terrible effects, the dose may have, 890
And force you, like Caligula, to rave,
When his Cæsonia squeezed into the bowl
The dire excrescence of a new-dropp'd foal. --
Then Uproar rose; the universal chain
Of Order snapped, and Anarchy's wild reign 895
Came on apace, as if the queen of heaven
Had fired the Thunderer, and to madness driven.
Thy mushroom, Agrippine! was innocent,
To this accursed draught; that only sent
One palsied, bedrid sot, with gummy eyes, 900
And slavering lips, heels foremost to the skies:
This, to wild fury roused a bloody mind,
And called for fire and sword; this potion joined
In one promiscuous slaughter high and low,
And leveled half the nation at a blow. 905
Such is the power of philters! such the ill,
One sorceress can effect by wicked skill!
They hate their husband's spurious issue:--this,
If this were all, were not, perhaps, amiss:
But they go farther; and 'tis now some time 910
Since poisoning sons-in-law scarce seemed a crime.
Mark then, ye fatherless! what I advise,
And trust, O, trust no dainties, if you're wise:
Ye heirs to large estates! touch not that fare,
Your mother's fingers have been busy there; 915
See! it looks livid, swollen:--O check your haste,
And let your wary fosterfather taste,
Whate'er she sets before you: fear her meat,
And be the first to look, the last to eat.
But this is fiction all! I pass the bound 920
Of Satire, and encroach on Tragic ground!
Deserting truth, I choose a fabled theme,
And, like the buskined bards of Greece, declaim,
In deep-mouthed tones, in swelling strains, on crimes
As yet unknown to our Rutulian climes! 925
Would it were so! but Pontia cries aloud,
"No, I performed it. " See! the fact's avowed--
"I mingled poison for my children, I;
'Twas found upon me, wherefore then deny? "
What, two at once, most barbarous viper! two! 930
"Nay, seven, had seven been mine: believe it true! "
Now let us credit what the tragic stage
Displays of Progne and Medea's rage;
Crimes of dire name, which, disbelieved of yore,
Become familiar, and revolt no more; 935
Those ancient dames in scenes of blood were bold,
And wrought fell deeds, but not, as ours, for gold:--
In every age, we view, with less surprise,
Such horrors as from bursts of fury rise,
When stormy passions, scorning all control, 940
Rend the mad bosom, and unseat the soul.
As when impetuous winds, and driving rain,
Mine some huge rock that overhangs the plain,
The cumbrous mass descends with thundering force,
And spreads resistless ruin in its course. 945
Curse on the woman, who reflects by fits,
And in cold blood her cruelties commits! --
They see, upon the stage, the Grecian wife
Redeeming with her own her husband's life;
Yet, in her place, would willingly deprive 950
Their lords of breath to keep their dogs alive!
Abroad, at home, the Belides you meet,
And Clytemnestras swarm in every street;
But here the difference lies:--those bungling wives,
With a blunt axe hacked out their husbands' lives; 955
While now, the deed is done with dexterous art,
And a drugged bowl performs the axe's part.
Yet, if the husband, prescient of his fate,
Have fortified his breast with mithridate,
She baffles him e'en there, and has recourse 960
To the old weapon for a last resource.
SATIRE VII.
TO TELESINUS.
Yes, all the hopes of learning, 'tis confess'd,
And all the patronage, on CÆSAR rest:
For he alone the drooping Nine regards--
When, now, our best, and most illustrious bards,
Quit their ungrateful studies, and retire, 5
Bagnios and bakehouses, for bread, to hire;
With humbled views, a life of toil embrace,
And deem a crier's business no disgrace;
Since Clio, driven by hunger from the shade,
Mixes in crowds, and bustles for a trade. 10
And truly, if (the bard's too frequent curse)
No coin be found in your Pierian purse,
'Twere not ill done to copy, for the nonce,
Machæra, and turn auctioneer at once.
Hie, my poetic friend; in accents loud, 15
Commend your precious lumber to the crowd,
Old tubs, stools, presses, wrecks of many a chest,
Paccius' damned plays, Thebes, Tereus, and the rest. --
And better so--than haunt the courts of law,
And swear, for hire, to what you never saw: 20
Leave this resource to Cappadocian knights,
To Gallogreeks, and such new-fangled wights,
As want, or infamy, has chased from home,
And driven, in barefoot multitudes, to Rome.
Come, my brave youths! --the genuine sons of rhyme, 25
Who, in sweet numbers, couch the true sublime,
Shall, from this hour, no more their fate accuse,
Or stoop to pains unworthy of the Muse.
Come, my brave youths! your tuneful labors ply,
Secure of favor; lo! the imperial eye 30
Looks round, attentive, on each rising bard,
For worth to praise, for genius to reward!
But if for other patronage you look,
And therefore write, and therefore swell your book,
Quick, call for wood, and let the flames devour 35
The hapless produce of the studious hour;
Or lock it up, to moths and worms a prey,
And break your pens, and fling your ink away:--
Or pour it rather o'er your epic flights,
Your battles, sieges (fruit of sleepless nights), 40
Pour it, mistaken men, who rack your brains
In dungeons, cocklofts, for heroic strains;
Who toil and sweat to purchase mere renown,
A meagre statue, and an ivy crown!
Here bound your expectations: for the great, 45
Grown, wisely, covetous, have learned, of late,
To praise, and ONLY praise, the high-wrought strain,
As boys, the bird of Juno's glittering train.
Meanwhile those vigorous years, so fit to bear
The toils of agriculture, commerce, war, 50
Spent in this idle trade, decline apace,
And age, unthought of, stares you in the face:--
O then, appalled to find your better days
Have earned you naught but poverty and praise,
At all your barren glories you repine, 55
And curse, too late, the unavailing Nine!
Hear, now, what sneaking ways your patrons find,
To save their darling gold:--they pay in kind!
Verses, composed in every Muse's spite,
To the starved bard, they, in their turn, recite; 60
And, if they yield to Homer, let him know,
'Tis--that he lived a thousand years ago!
