A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace With the Original Text, and Critical Notes collected from his best Latin and French Commentators. By the Revd Mr. Philip Francis...The third edition |
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Sat. VIII. Horace. Fundanius.
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 | A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace |  |
245
Sat. VIII. Horace. Fundanius.
Horace.They told me, that you spent the jovial Night
With Nasidienus, that same happy Wight,
From early Day, or you had been my Guest;
But, prithee, tell me how you lik'd the Feast.
Fund.
Sure never better.
Horace.
Tell me, if you please,
How did you first your Appetite appease.
Fund.
First a Lucanian Boar, of tender Kind,
Caught, says our Host, in a soft southern Wind.
Around him lay whatever could excite,
With pungent Force, the jaded Appetite,
Rapes, Lettuce, Radishes, Anchovy-Brine,
With Skerrets, and the Lees of Coan Wine.
Caught, says our Host, in a soft southern Wind.
Around him lay whatever could excite,
With pungent Force, the jaded Appetite,
Rapes, Lettuce, Radishes, Anchovy-Brine,
With Skerrets, and the Lees of Coan Wine.
This Dish remov'd, a Slave expert and able
With purple Napkin wip'd a maple Table.
Another sweeps the Fragments of the Feast,
That nothing useless might offend the Guest.
With purple Napkin wip'd a maple Table.
Another sweeps the Fragments of the Feast,
That nothing useless might offend the Guest.
247
At Ceres' Feast as Attic Virgin walks
Solemn and slow, so black Hydaspes stalks
With right Cæcubian and the Wines of Greece—
Of foreign Growth, that never cross'd the Seas.
If Alban or Falernian please you more,
So says our Host, you may have both good Store;
Poor Wealth indeed—
Solemn and slow, so black Hydaspes stalks
With right Cæcubian and the Wines of Greece—
Of foreign Growth, that never cross'd the Seas.
If Alban or Falernian please you more,
So says our Host, you may have both good Store;
Poor Wealth indeed—
Horace.
But tell me who were there,
Thus happy to enjoy such luscious Fare?
Fund.
In the first Bed I haply lay between
Viscus and Varius, if aright I ween;
Servilius and Vibidius both were there,
Brought by Mæcenas, and with him they share
The middle Bed. Our Master of the Feast
On the third Couch, in Seat of Honour plac'd,
Porcius betwixt and Nomentanus lies;
Porcius, who archly swallows Custard-pies.
Viscus and Varius, if aright I ween;
Servilius and Vibidius both were there,
Brought by Mæcenas, and with him they share
The middle Bed. Our Master of the Feast
On the third Couch, in Seat of Honour plac'd,
Porcius betwixt and Nomentanus lies;
Porcius, who archly swallows Custard-pies.
Whate'er of curious Relish lay unknown
Is by Nomentane with his Finger shown,
For we, poor Folk, unknowing of our Feast,
Eat Fish and Wild-Fowl—of no common Taste.
But he, to prove how luscious was the Treat,
With a broil'd Flounder's Entrails crouds my Plate,
Then told me, Apples are more ruddy bright,
If gather'd by fair Luna's waning Light.
He best can tell you where the Difference lies—
But here Servilius to Vibidius cries,
“Sure to be poison'd, unreveng'd we die,
“Unless we drink the wretched Miser dry.
“Slave, give us larger Glasses.”—Struck with Dread,
A fearful Pale our Landlord's Face o'erspread;
Great were his Terrours of such drinking Folk,
Because with too much Bitterness they joke,
Or that hot Wines, dishonouring his Feast,
Deafen the subtle Judgement of the Taste.
Is by Nomentane with his Finger shown,
For we, poor Folk, unknowing of our Feast,
Eat Fish and Wild-Fowl—of no common Taste.
But he, to prove how luscious was the Treat,
With a broil'd Flounder's Entrails crouds my Plate,
249
If gather'd by fair Luna's waning Light.
He best can tell you where the Difference lies—
But here Servilius to Vibidius cries,
“Sure to be poison'd, unreveng'd we die,
“Unless we drink the wretched Miser dry.
“Slave, give us larger Glasses.”—Struck with Dread,
A fearful Pale our Landlord's Face o'erspread;
Great were his Terrours of such drinking Folk,
Because with too much Bitterness they joke,
Or that hot Wines, dishonouring his Feast,
Deafen the subtle Judgement of the Taste.
When our two Champions had their Facers crown'd,
We did them Justice, and the Glass went round;
His Parasites alone his Anger fear'd,
And the full Flask unwillingly they spar'd.
We did them Justice, and the Glass went round;
His Parasites alone his Anger fear'd,
And the full Flask unwillingly they spar'd.
In a large Dish an outstretch'd Lamprey lies,
With Shrimps all floating round: The Master cries,
This Fish, Mæcenas, big with Spawn was caught,
For after spawning-time its Flesh is naught.
The Sauce is mix'd with Olive-Oil; the best,
And purest from the Vats Venafran prest,
And, as it boil'd, we pour'd in Spanish Brine,
Nor less than five-year-old Italian Wine.
A little Chian's better when 'tis boil'd,
By any other it is often spoil'd.
Then was white Pepper o'er it gently pour'd,
And Vinegar, of Lesbian Vintage sour'd.
With Shrimps all floating round: The Master cries,
This Fish, Mæcenas, big with Spawn was caught,
For after spawning-time its Flesh is naught.
The Sauce is mix'd with Olive-Oil; the best,
And purest from the Vats Venafran prest,
And, as it boil'd, we pour'd in Spanish Brine,
Nor less than five-year-old Italian Wine.
A little Chian's better when 'tis boil'd,
By any other it is often spoil'd.
Then was white Pepper o'er it gently pour'd,
And Vinegar, of Lesbian Vintage sour'd.
I first among the Men of Sapience knew
Roquets and Herbs in Cockle-Brine to stew,
Though in the same rich Pickle, 'tis confest,
His unwash'd Cray-fish sage Curtillus drest.
Roquets and Herbs in Cockle-Brine to stew,
Though in the same rich Pickle, 'tis confest,
His unwash'd Cray-fish sage Curtillus drest.
251
But lo! the Canopy, that o'er us spreads,
Tumbled, in hideous Ruin, on our Heads,
With Dust, how black! not such the Clouds arise
When o'er the Plain a Northern Tempest flies.
Some Horrours, yet more horrible, we dread,
But raise us, when we found the Danger fled.
Tumbled, in hideous Ruin, on our Heads,
With Dust, how black! not such the Clouds arise
When o'er the Plain a Northern Tempest flies.
Some Horrours, yet more horrible, we dread,
But raise us, when we found the Danger fled.
Poor Rufus droop'd his Head, and sadly cried,
As if his only Son untimely died.
Sure he had wept, till weeping ne'er had End,
But wise Nomentane thus up-rais'd his Friend;
“Fortune, thou cruelest of Powers divine,
“To joke poor Mortals is a Joke of thine.”
While Varius with a Napkin scarce supprest
His Laughter, Balatro, who loves a Jest,
Cries, such the Lot of Life, nor must you claim,
For all your Toils, a fair Return of Fame.
While you are tortur'd thus, and torn with Pain,
A Guest like me, polite to entertain
With Bread well bak'd, with Sauces season'd right,
With Slaves in waiting elegantly tight,
Down rush the Canopies, a Trick of Fate,
Or a Groom-Footman stumbling breaks a Plate.
Good Fortune hides, Adversity calls forth,
A Landlord's Genius, and a Leader's Worth.
As if his only Son untimely died.
Sure he had wept, till weeping ne'er had End,
But wise Nomentane thus up-rais'd his Friend;
“Fortune, thou cruelest of Powers divine,
“To joke poor Mortals is a Joke of thine.”
While Varius with a Napkin scarce supprest
His Laughter, Balatro, who loves a Jest,
Cries, such the Lot of Life, nor must you claim,
For all your Toils, a fair Return of Fame.
While you are tortur'd thus, and torn with Pain,
A Guest like me, polite to entertain
With Bread well bak'd, with Sauces season'd right,
With Slaves in waiting elegantly tight,
Down rush the Canopies, a Trick of Fate,
Or a Groom-Footman stumbling breaks a Plate.
Good Fortune hides, Adversity calls forth,
A Landlord's Genius, and a Leader's Worth.
To this mine Host; “Thou ever-gentle Guest,
“May all thy Wishes by the Gods be blest,
“Thou best good Man”—But when we saw him rise,
From Bed to Bed the spreading Whisper flies.
No Play was half so fine.
“May all thy Wishes by the Gods be blest,
“Thou best good Man”—But when we saw him rise,
From Bed to Bed the spreading Whisper flies.
253
Horace.
But, prithee, say,
How afterwards you laugh'd the Time away.
Fund.
Slaves, cries Vibidius, have you broke the Cask?
How often must I call for t'other Flask?
With some pretended Joke our Laugh was drest,
Servilius ever seconding the Jest,
When you, great Host, return'd with alter'd Face,
As if to mend with Art your late Disgrace.
How often must I call for t'other Flask?
With some pretended Joke our Laugh was drest,
Servilius ever seconding the Jest,
When you, great Host, return'd with alter'd Face,
As if to mend with Art your late Disgrace.
The Slaves behind in mighty Charger bore
A Crane in Pieces torn, and powder'd o'er
With Salt and Flower; and a white Gander's Liver,
Stuff'd fat with Figs, bespoke the curious Giver;
Besides the Wings of Hares, for, so it seems,
No Man of Luxury the Back esteems.
A Crane in Pieces torn, and powder'd o'er
With Salt and Flower; and a white Gander's Liver,
Stuff'd fat with Figs, bespoke the curious Giver;
Besides the Wings of Hares, for, so it seems,
No Man of Luxury the Back esteems.
Then saw we Black-birds with o'er-roasted Breast,
And lo! without the Rumps the Ring-Doves drest,
Delicious Fare! did not our Host explain
Their various Qualities in endless Strain,
Their various Natures; but we fled the Feast,
Resolv'd in Vengeance nothing more to taste,
As if Canidia, with empoison'd Breath,
Worse than a Serpent's, blasted it with Death.
And lo! without the Rumps the Ring-Doves drest,
Delicious Fare! did not our Host explain
Their various Qualities in endless Strain,
Their various Natures; but we fled the Feast,
Resolv'd in Vengeance nothing more to taste,
As if Canidia, with empoison'd Breath,
Worse than a Serpent's, blasted it with Death.
| A Poetical Translation of the works of Horace | |