The Satires of Decimus Junius Juvenalis and of Aulus Persius Flaccus, Translated into English Verse. By William Gifford ... with Notes and Illustrations. In Two Volumes |
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| VI. | SATIRE VI. |
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 | The Satires of Decimus Junius Juvenalis |  |
197
SATIRE VI.
199
TO URSIDIUS POSTHUMUS.
Yes, I believe that Chastity was known,
And prized on earth, while Saturn fill'd the throne;
When rocks a bleak and scanty shelter gave,
When sheep and shepherds throng'd one common cave,
And when the mountain wife her couch bestrew'd
With skins of beasts, joint tenants of the wood,
And reeds, and leaves pluck'd from the neighbouring 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:
But strong, and reaching to her burly brood
Her big-swoll'n 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,
Unfather'd, from the soil or opening oak,
Lived most unlike the men of later times,
The puling brood of follies and of crimes.
And prized on earth, while Saturn fill'd the throne;
When rocks a bleak and scanty shelter gave,
When sheep and shepherds throng'd one common cave,
And when the mountain wife her couch bestrew'd
With skins of beasts, joint tenants of the wood,
And reeds, and leaves pluck'd from the neighbouring tree:—
A woman, Cynthia, far unlike to thee,
200
Whose eyes a sparrow's death suffused with tears:
201
Her big-swoll'n 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,
Unfather'd, 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 remain'd,
While Jove, but Jove as yet unbearded, reign'd:
Before the Greek bound, by another's head,
His doubtful faith; or men, of theft in dread,
Had learn'd their herbs and fruitage to immure,
But all was unenclosed, and all secure!
At length Astrea, from these confines driven,
Regain'd by slow degrees, her native heaven;
With her retired her sister in disgust,
And left the world to rapine, and to lust.
While Jove, but Jove as yet unbearded, reign'd:
Before the Greek bound, by another's head,
His doubtful faith; or men, of theft in dread,
202
But all was unenclosed, and all secure!
At length Astrea, from these confines driven,
Regain'd by slow degrees, her native heaven;
With her retired her sister in disgust,
And left the world to rapine, and to lust.
203
'Tis not a practice, friend, of recent date,
But old, establish'd, and inveterate,
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
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!
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,
And Tiber and the Æmilian bridge are nigh?—
But old, establish'd, and inveterate,
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
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!
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,
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,
And all the dainties, which the flatterer, still,
Heaps on the childless, to secure his Will?
“Will keep my destined wife from every flaw;
204
Wilt thou the turtle and the turbot lose,
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 impell'd?
If thou, the veriest debauchee in town,
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!—
If thou, old friend, to wedlock art impell'd?
If thou, the veriest debauchee in town,
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!—
But what! Ursidius hopes a mate to gain,
Frugal, and chaste, and of the good old strain:
Alas, he's frantick! ope a vein with speed,
And bleed him copiously, good doctor, bleed.
Jewel of men! thy knees to Jove incline,
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 hallow'd fillets, with chaste hands, to bind;
Few whom their fathers with their lips can trust,
So strong their filial kisses smack of lust!
Frugal, and chaste, and of the good old strain:
205
And bleed him copiously, good doctor, bleed.
Jewel of men! thy knees to Jove incline,
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 hallow'd fillets, with chaste hands, to bind;
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,
For all her wants and wishes? Will one eye!
And crown your doors with garlands, ere she come.—
But will one man suffice, methinks, you cry,
For all her wants and wishes? Will one eye!
206
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,
As at her father's farm!—Yet who will swear,
That nought 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.
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,
As at her father's farm!—Yet who will swear,
That nought 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.
Survey our publick 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,
Acts Leda, and through every posture swims,
Tuccia delights to realize the play,
And in lascivious trances melts away;
While rustick Thymelè, with curious eye,
Marks the quick pant, the lingering, deep-drawn sigh,
And while her cheeks with burning blushes glow,
Learns this—learns all the city matrons know.
One woman worthy of your serious care?
See you, through all the crowded benches, one,
Whom you might take securely for your own?—
207
Acts Leda, and through every posture swims,
208
And in lascivious trances melts away;
209
Marks the quick pant, the lingering, deep-drawn sigh,
And while her cheeks with burning blushes glow,
Learns this—learns all the city matrons know.
210
Others, when of the theatres bereft,
When nothing, but the wrangling bar, is left,
In the long, tedious months, which interpose
'Twixt the Cybelian and Plebeian Shows,
Sicken for action, and assume the airs,
The mask and thyrsus, of their favourite players.
—Midst peals of mirth, see Urbicus advance,
(Poor Ælia's choice,) and, in a wanton dance,
Burlesque Autonoë's woes! the rich engage
In higher frolicks, 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—
Heavens! dream'd you that Quintilian would be loved!
When nothing, but the wrangling bar, is left,
In the long, tedious months, which interpose
'Twixt the Cybelian and Plebeian Shows,
Sicken for action, and assume the airs,
The mask and thyrsus, of their favourite players.
—Midst peals of mirth, see Urbicus advance,
(Poor Ælia's choice,) and, in a wanton dance,
Burlesque Autonoë's woes! the rich engage
In higher frolicks, and defraud the stage;
Take from Chrysogonus the power to sing,
Loose, at vast prices, the comedian's ring,
211
Heavens! dream'd 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:
Haste; in the narrow streets long scaffolds raise,
And deck thy portals with triumphant bays;
That, in thy heir, as swath'd in state he lies,
The guests may trace Mirmillo's nose and eyes!
That the chaste partner of thy fruitful bed
May kindly single from this motley race,
Some sturdy Glaphyrus, thy brows to grace:
212
And deck thy portals with triumphant bays;
That, in thy heir, as swath'd in state he lies,
The guests may trace Mirmillo's nose and eyes!
Hippia, who shared a rich patrician's bed,
To Egypt, with a gladiator, fled,
While rank Canopus eyed, with strong disgust,
This ranker specimen of Roman lust.
Without one pang, the profligate resign'd
Her husband, sister, sire; gave to the wind
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 press'd the down of an embroider'd bed,
She braved the deep, (she long had braved her fame;
But this is little—to the courtly dame,)
And, with undaunted breast, the changes bore
Of many a sea, the swelling and the roar.
To Egypt, with a gladiator, fled,
While rank Canopus eyed, with strong disgust,
This ranker specimen of Roman lust.
213
Her husband, sister, sire; gave to the wind
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 press'd the down of an embroider'd bed,
She braved the deep, (she long had braved her fame;
But this is little—to the courtly dame,)
And, with undaunted breast, the changes bore
Of many a sea, the swelling and the roar.
214
Have they an honest call, such ills to bear?
Cold shiverings seize them, and they shrink with fear;
But set illicit pleasure in their eye,
Onward they rush, and every toil defy!
Cold shiverings seize them, and they shrink with fear;
But set illicit pleasure in their eye,
Onward they rush, and every toil defy!
Summon'd by duty, to attend her lord,
How, cries the lady, can I get on board?
How bear the dizzy motion? how the smell?
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 chang'd the case!
Sick! sick! she cries, and vomits in his face;
How, cries the lady, can I get on board?
How bear the dizzy motion? how the smell?
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 chang'd the case!
Sick! sick! she cries, and vomits in his face;
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 doat!
For the sweet Sergius long had scraped his throat,
Long look'd for leave to quit the publick stage,
Maim'd in his limbs, and verging now to age.
Add, that his face was batter'd and decay'd;
The helmet on his brow huge galls had made,
A wen deform'd his nose, of monstrous size,
And sharp rheum trickled from his bloodshot eyes:
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,
And he'll appear, at once,—so like her lord!
Was Hippia won, the opprobrious name to bear,
Of Fencer's trull? The wanton well might doat!
For the sweet Sergius long had scraped his throat,
Long look'd for leave to quit the publick stage,
Maim'd in his limbs, and verging now to age.
Add, that his face was batter'd and decay'd;
The helmet on his brow huge galls had made,
A wen deform'd his nose, of monstrous size,
And sharp rheum trickled from his bloodshot eyes:
215
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,
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!
Claudius had scarce begun his eyes to close,
Ere from his pillow Messalina rose;
(Accustom'd long the bed of state to slight
For the coarse mattress, and the hood of night;)
And with one maid, and her dark hair conceal'd
Beneath a yellow tire, a strumpet veil'd!
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,
And show'd, Britannicus, to all who came,
The womb that bore thee, in Lycisca's name!
Allured the passers by with many a wile,
And ask'd her price, and took it, with a smile.
And when the hour of business now was spent,
And all the trulls dismiss'd, 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,
With joyless pace, the imperial couch she sought,
And to her happy spouse (yet slumb'ring) brought,
Cheeks rank with sweat, limbs drench'd with poisonous dews,
The steam of lamps, and odour of the stews!
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!
Claudius had scarce begun his eyes to close,
Ere from his pillow Messalina rose;
(Accustom'd long the bed of state to slight
For the coarse mattress, and the hood of night;)
And with one maid, and her dark hair conceal'd
Beneath a yellow tire, a strumpet veil'd!
216
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,
217
The womb that bore thee, in Lycisca's name!
Allured the passers by with many a wile,
And ask'd her price, and took it, with a smile.
And when the hour of business now was spent,
And all the trulls dismiss'd, 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,
With joyless pace, the imperial couch she sought,
And to her happy spouse (yet slumb'ring) brought,
Cheeks rank with sweat, limbs drench'd with poisonous dews,
The steam of lamps, and odour of the stews!
'Twere long to tell what philters they provide,
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.
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.
218
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,
Nor felt the flame which fires the ardent mind,
Plutus, not Cupid, touch'd his sordid heart;
And 'twas her dower that wing'd the unerring dart.
She brought enough her liberty to buy,
And tip the wink before her husband's eye.
A wealthy wanton, to a miser wed,
Has all the license of a widow'd bed.
And styled the first of women, by her lord?
219
It cost the lady to be free from vice!—
Not for her charms the wounded lover pined,
Nor felt the flame which fires the ardent mind,
Plutus, not Cupid, touch'd his sordid heart;
And 'twas her dower that wing'd the unerring dart.
She brought enough her liberty to buy,
And tip the wink before her husband's eye.
A wealthy wanton, to a miser wed,
Has all the license of a widow'd bed.
But yet, Sertorius what I say disproves,
For though his Bibula is poor, he loves.
True! but examine him; and, on my life,
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;
And you shall hear the insulting freedman say,
“Pack up your trumpery, madam, and away!
“Nay, bustle, bustle; here you give offence,
“With snivelling night and day:—take your nose hence!”—
For though his Bibula is poor, he loves.
True! but examine him; and, on my life,
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;
And you shall hear the insulting freedman say,
“Pack up your trumpery, madam, and away!
“Nay, bustle, bustle; here you give offence,
“With snivelling night and day:—take your nose hence!”—
220
But, ere that hour arrive, she reigns indeed!
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 neighbour has, she sighs,
And plagues her doting husband, till he buys.
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 neighbour has, she sighs,
And plagues her doting husband, till he buys.
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,
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.
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,
The hire of incest, and thence valued more;
221
Where kings the Sabbath, barefoot, celebrate;
222
To hogs, that fatten fearless of the knife.
What! and is none of all this numerous herd,
Worthy your choice? not one, to be preferr'd?
Suppose her nobly born, young, rich, and fair,
And (though a coal-black swan be far less rare)
Chaste as the Sabine wives, who rush'd between
The kindred hosts, and closed the unnatural scene;
Yet who could bear to lead an humbled life,
Curs'd with that veriest plague, a faultless wife!—
Some simple rustick at Venusium bred,
O let me, rather than Cornelia, wed,
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 vanquish'd Syphax, camp and all!
Troop, with the whole of Carthage! I'd be free,
From all this pageantry of worth—and thee.
Worthy your choice? not one, to be preferr'd?
Suppose her nobly born, young, rich, and fair,
And (though a coal-black swan be far less rare)
Chaste as the Sabine wives, who rush'd between
The kindred hosts, and closed the unnatural scene;
Yet who could bear to lead an humbled life,
Curs'd with that veriest plague, a faultless wife!—
Some simple rustick at Venusium bred,
O let me, rather than Cornelia, wed,
223
And count her ancestors as current coin.
Take back, for mercy's sake, thy Hannibal!
Away, with vanquish'd Syphax, camp and all!
Troop, with the whole of Carthage! I'd be free,
From all this pageantry of worth—and thee.
224
“O let, Apollo, let my children live,
“And thou, Diana, pity, and forgive;”
Amphion cries; “they, they are guiltless all:
“The mother sinn'd, let then the mother fall.”
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
With that White Sow, for thirty sucklings famed.
“And thou, Diana, pity, and forgive;”
Amphion cries; “they, they are guiltless all:
“The mother sinn'd, let then the mother fall.”
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
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,
If, warp'd 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,
And curse the worth he loves, seven hours in eight?
If a wife force them hourly on your ear;
225
Even in this boast, this phœnix of her kind,
If, warp'd 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,
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 attick terms she dress;
A mere Cecropian of a Sulmoness!
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,
To Greek it still!—'tis, now, a day too late.
Foh! how it savours 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!
Words, which the secret sheets alone should hear,
But which she trumpets in the publick ear.
And words, indeed, have power—But though she woo
In softer strains than e'er Carpophorus knew,
Her wrinkles still employ her favourite's cares;
And while she murmurs love, he counts her years!
'Tis now the nauseous cant, that none is fair,
Unless her thoughts in attick terms she dress;
A mere Cecropian of a Sulmoness!
All now is Greek: in Greek their souls they pour,
In Greek their fears, hopes, joys;—what would you more?
226
These fooleries, to girls: but thou, O thou,
Who tremblest on the verge of eighty-eight,
To Greek it still!—'tis, now, a day too late.
Foh! how it savours 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!
Words, which the secret sheets alone should hear,
But which she trumpets in the publick ear.
And words, indeed, have power—But though she woo
In softer strains than e'er Carpophorus knew,
Her wrinkles still employ her favourite's cares;
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-stomach'd guest, at parting, takes?
And the rich present, which the bridal right
Claims for the favours of the happy night?
The charger, where, triumphantly inscroll'd,
The Dacian Hero shines in current gold!
If thou canst love, and thy besotted mind
Is, so uxoriously, to one inclined,
Then bow thy neck, and with submissive air,
Receive the yoke—thou must for ever wear.
Made thine by every tie, and thine for life,
Why wed at all? why waste the wine and cakes,
The queasy-stomach'd guest, at parting, takes?
And the rich present, which the bridal right
Claims for the favours of the happy night?
227
The Dacian Hero shines in current gold!
If thou canst love, and thy besotted mind
Is, so uxoriously, to one inclined,
Then bow thy neck, and with submissive air,
Receive the yoke—thou must for ever wear.
To a fond spouse, a wife no mercy shows:—
Though warm'd with equal fires, she mocks his woes,
And triumphs in his spoils: her wayward will
Defeats his bliss, and turns his good to ill!
Nought must be given, if she opposes; nought,
If she opposes, must be sold or bought;
She tells him where to love, and where to hate,
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,
To name his very rivals for his heirs!
Though warm'd with equal fires, she mocks his woes,
And triumphs in his spoils: her wayward will
Defeats his bliss, and turns his good to ill!
228
If she opposes, must be sold or bought;
She tells him where to love, and where to hate,
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,
To name his very rivals for his heirs!
“Go, crucify that slave.” For what offence?
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;
Hear all, weigh all with caution, I advise—
“Thou sniveller! 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.”
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;
Hear all, weigh all with caution, I advise—
“Thou sniveller! is a slave a man?” she cries.
229
“My will; let that, sir, for a reason stand.”
Thus the virago triumphs, thus she reigns:
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,
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!
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,
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!
230
While your wife's mother lives, expect no peace.
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:
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,
While the rank letcher, 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?—
No;—with their daughters' lusts they swell their stores,
And thrive as bawds, when out of date as whores!
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:
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,
While the rank letcher, at the closet door,
Lurking in silence, maddens with delay,
And in his own impatience melts away.
231
To teach severer morals than her own?—
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,
Draw up the Instructions with a lawyer's skill,
Suggest to Celsus where the merits lie,
And dictate points for statement, or reply.
And raise litigious questions for a straw;
They meet in private, and prepare the Bill,
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 mark'd their oil,
Their purple rugs, for this preposterous toil?
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,
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!
Their purple rugs, for this preposterous toil?
232
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,
And the glad master interrupts her blows.
O worthy, sure, to head those wanton dames,
Who foot it naked at the Floral Games;
233
And tempt the Arena's bloody field—for hire!
234
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,
And we, alas! have no advantage there.—
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,
And we, alas! have no advantage there.—
Heavens! with what glee a husband must behold
His wife's accoutrements, in publick, sold;
And auctioneers displaying to the throng,
Her crest, her belt, her gauntlet, and her thong!
Or, if in wilder frolicks 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.
His wife's accoutrements, in publick, sold;
235
Her crest, her belt, her gauntlet, and her thong!
Or, if in wilder frolicks 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
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:
How close tuck'd up for fight, behind, before,
Then laugh—to see her squat, when all is o'er!
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:
How close tuck'd 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 confest)
Tilt at a stake, thus impudently drest!
And blind Metellus, did ye e'er behold
Asylla (though a fencer's trull confest)
Tilt at a stake, thus impudently drest!
236
'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.”
Fierce as a tigress plunder'd 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,
And weeps her injuries from imagined names,
With tears that, marshall'd, at their station stand,
And flow impassion'd, as she gives command.
You think those showers her true affection prove,
And deem yourself—so happy, in her love!
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,
Proofs, damning proofs, of her sincerity!
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.”
Fierce as a tigress plunder'd 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,
And weeps her injuries from imagined names,
With tears that, marshall'd, at their station stand,
And flow impassion'd, as she gives command.
You think those showers her true affection prove,
And deem yourself—so happy, in her love!
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,
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! you are dumb?
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;
And more audacious, as more guilty, grow.
Suppose her taken in a loose embrace,
A slave's or knight's. Now, my Quintilian, come,
And fashion an excuse. What! you are dumb?
Then, let the lady speak. “Was't not agreed
“The man might please himself?” It was; proceed.
237
“Man is a general term, and takes in both.”
When once surprised, the sex all shame forego;
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 labour, nights of short repose,
Hands still employ'd the Tuscan wool to tose,
Their husbands arm'd, and anxious for the State,
And Carthage hovering near the Colline gate,
Conspired to keep all thoughts of ill aloof,
And banish'd vice, far from their lowly roof.
Now, all the evils of long peace are ours;
Luxury, more terrible than hostile powers,
Her baleful influence wide around has hurl'd,
And well avenged the subjugated world!
—Since Poverty, our better Genius, fled,
Vice, like a deluge, o'er the State has spread.
Now, shame to Rome! in every street are found,
The essenced Sybarite, with roses crown'd,
The gay Miletan, and the Tarentine,
Lewd, petulant, and reeling ripe with wine!
Wealth first, the ready pander to all sin,
Brought foreign manners, foreign vices in;
Enervate wealth, and with seductive art,
Sapp'd every homebred virtue of the heart;
Yes, every:—for what cares the drunken dame,
(Take head or tail, to her 'tis just the same,)
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!
From wealth, my friend. Our matrons, then, were chaste,
When days of labour, nights of short repose,
Hands still employ'd the Tuscan wool to tose,
Their husbands arm'd, and anxious for the State,
And Carthage hovering near the Colline gate,
Conspired to keep all thoughts of ill aloof,
And banish'd vice, far from their lowly roof.
Now, all the evils of long peace are ours;
Luxury, more terrible than hostile powers,
Her baleful influence wide around has hurl'd,
And well avenged the subjugated world!
—Since Poverty, our better Genius, fled,
Vice, like a deluge, o'er the State has spread.
Now, shame to Rome! in every street are found,
The essenced Sybarite, with roses crown'd,
The gay Miletan, and the Tarentine,
Lewd, petulant, and reeling ripe with wine!
Wealth first, the ready pander to all sin,
Brought foreign manners, foreign vices in;
Enervate wealth, and with seductive art,
Sapp'd every homebred virtue of the heart;
238
(Take head or tail, to her 'tis just the same,)
Who, at deep midnight, on fat oysters sups,
And froths with unguents her Falernian cups;
239
And double lustres dance before her eyes!
Thus flush'd, conceive, as Tullia homeward goes,
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:—
You pass, aroused at dawn your court to pay,
The loathsome scene of their licentious play.
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:—
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,
By wine, and musick'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!
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
For parts, and powers, superiour to her own.
Maids, mistresses, alike the contest share,
And 'tis not always birth that triumphs there.
Of the Good Goddess; when the dance excites
240
By wine, and musick'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!
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
For parts, and powers, superiour to her own.
Maids, mistresses, alike the contest share,
And 'tis not always birth that triumphs there.
Nothing is feign'd in this accursed game:
'Tis genuine all; and such as would inflame
The frozen age of Priam, and inspire,
The ruptur'd, bedrid Nestor with desire.
Stung with their mimick feats, a hollow groan
Of lust breaks forth; the sex, the sex, is shown!
And one loud yell re-echoes through the den,
“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!”—
Nature's strong barrier scarcely now restrains
The baffled fury in their boiling veins!
'Tis genuine all; and such as would inflame
The frozen age of Priam, and inspire,
The ruptur'd, bedrid Nestor with desire.
Stung with their mimick feats, a hollow groan
Of lust breaks forth; the sex, the sex, is shown!
And one loud yell re-echoes through the den,
“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!”—
241
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,
Vast as two Anti-Catos, there, even there,
Where the he-mouse, in reverence, lies conceal'd,
And every picture of a male is veil'd.
And who was then a scoffer? who despised
The simple rites by infant Rome devised,
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.
But Africa and India, earth and sea,
Have heard, what singing-wench produced his ware,
Vast as two Anti-Catos, there, even there,
242
And every picture of a male is veil'd.
And who was then a scoffer? who despised
The simple rites by infant Rome devised,
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:
“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,
Who, on tall Syrians' necks, their pomp display,
And those who pick, on foot, their miry way.
“Let spies surround her, and let bolts secure.”
243
Our poor precautions, and begin with them.
Lust is the master passion; it inflames,
Alike, both high and low; alike, the dames,
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,
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!
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,
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;
As if the mass its present size would keep,
And no expense reduce the eternal heap.
To emulate the rich, she hires her clothes,
Hires followers, friends, and cushions; hires a chair,
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!
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,
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;
244
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,
Nor use abortive drugs, for his embrace.
But oh! their joys run high, if he be form'd,
When his full veins the fire of love has warm'd;
When every part's to full perfection rear'd,
And nought of manhood wanting, but the beard.
In the soft eunuch, and the beardless kiss:
They need not from his chin avert their face,
Nor use abortive drugs, for his embrace.
But oh! their joys run high, if he be form'd,
When his full veins the fire of love has warm'd;
When every part's to full perfection rear'd,
And nought of manhood wanting, but the beard.
But should the dame in musick take delight,
The publick 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,
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!
These still she holds, with these she sooths her woes,
And kisses on the dear, dear wire bestows.
The publick 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,
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,
245
Was wont to strike—so sweetly, and so well!
These still she holds, with these she sooths 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 Harmonick Games, would speed,
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
Approach'd the altar, reckless of her fame,
And veil'd her head, and, with a pious air,
Follow'd the Aruspex through the form of prayer;
And trembled, and turn'd pale, as he explored
The entrails, breathless for the fatal word!
But, tell me, father Janus, if you please,
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,
By this eternal route, the wretched priest
Feels his legs swell, and dies to be releast.
Inquired of Janus, (offering meal and wine,)
If Pollio, at the Harmonick Games, would speed,
And wear the oaken crown, the victor's meed!
246
What for an only, an expiring son?
Yes; for a harper, the besotted dame
Approach'd the altar, reckless of her fame,
And veil'd her head, and, with a pious air,
Follow'd the Aruspex through the form of prayer;
And trembled, and turn'd pale, as he explored
The entrails, breathless for the fatal word!
But, tell me, father Janus, if you please,
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,
By this eternal route, the wretched priest
Feels his legs swell, and dies to be releast.
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,
With lawless eye, bold front, and bosom bare.
And thrust herself in every crowd she meets;
247
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;
Who speeds, and who is jilted; and can swear,
Who made the widow pregnant, when and where,
And what she said, and how she frolick'd there.—
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;
Who speeds, and who is jilted; and can swear,
Who made the widow pregnant, when and where,
And what she said, and how she frolick'd there.—
She first espied the star, whose baleful ray,
O'er Parthia, and Armenia, shed dismay:
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,
And pour'd his desolating flood around;
How earth, convuls'd, disclosed her caverns hoar,
And cities trembled, and—were seen no more!
O'er Parthia, and Armenia, shed dismay:
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,
And pour'd his desolating flood around;
248
And cities trembled, and—were seen no more!
And yet this itch, though never to be cured,
Is easier, than her cruelty, endured.
Should a poor neighbour's dog but discompose
Her rest, a moment, wild with rage she grows;
“Ho! whips,” she cries, “and flay that brute accurst;
“But flay that rascal, there, who owns him, first.”
Dangerous to meet while in these frantick airs,
And terrible to look at, she prepares
To bathe at night; she issues her commands,
And in long ranks, forth march the obedient bands,
With tubs, cloths, oils:—for 'tis her dear delight,
To sweat in clamour, tumult, and affright.
Is easier, than her cruelty, endured.
Should a poor neighbour's dog but discompose
Her rest, a moment, wild with rage she grows;
“Ho! whips,” she cries, “and flay that brute accurst;
“But flay that rascal, there, who owns him, first.”
Dangerous to meet while in these frantick airs,
And terrible to look at, she prepares
To bathe at night; she issues her commands,
And in long ranks, forth march the obedient bands,
With tubs, cloths, oils:—for 'tis her dear delight,
To sweat in clamour, tumult, and affright.
When her tired arms refuse the balls to ply,
And the lewd bath-keeper has rubb'd her dry,
She calls to mind each miserable guest,
Long since with hunger, and with sleep opprest,
And hurries home; all glowing, all athirst,
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;
Or a gilt ewer receives the foul contents,
And poisons all the house with vinous scents.
So, dropt into a vat, a snake is said
To drink and spew:—the husband turns his head,
Sick to the soul, from this disgusting scene,
And struggles to suppress his rising spleen.
And the lewd bath-keeper has rubb'd her dry,
She calls to mind each miserable guest,
Long since with hunger, and with sleep opprest,
And hurries home; all glowing, all athirst,
For wine, whole flasks of wine! and swallows, first,
249
A ravenous, an unbounded appetite!
Huisch! up it comes, good heavens! meat, drink, and all,
And flows in purple torrents round the hall;
Or a gilt ewer receives the foul contents,
And poisons all the house with vinous scents.
So, dropt into a vat, a snake is said
To drink and spew:—the husband turns his head,
Sick to the soul, from this disgusting scene,
And struggles to suppress his rising spleen.
But she is more intolerable yet,
Who plays the critick, when at table set;
Calls Virgil charming, and attempts to prove,
Poor Dido right, in venturing all for love.
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 astonish'd guests sit mute: grammarians yield,
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,
A thousand basins clattering. Vex no more,
Your trumpets, and your timbrels, as of yore,
To ease the labouring moon; her single yell
Can drown their clangour, and dissolve the spell.
Who plays the critick, when at table set;
Calls Virgil charming, and attempts to prove,
Poor Dido right, in venturing all for love.
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 astonish'd guests sit mute: grammarians yield,
Loud rhetoricians, baffled, quit the field;
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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,
A thousand basins clattering. Vex no more,
Your trumpets, and your timbrels, as of yore,
To ease the labouring moon; her single yell
Can drown their clangour, and dissolve the spell.
She lectures too in Ethicks, and declaims,
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 Stoick's privilege, repair
To farthing baths, and strip in publick there!
On the Chief Good!—but, surely, she who aims
251
A hog, due offering, to Sylvanus slay,
And, with the Stoick's privilege, repair
To farthing baths, and strip in publick there!
252
O, never may the partner of my bed,
With subtleties of logick stuff her head;
Nor whirl her rapid syllogisms around,
Nor with imperfect enthymemes confound!
Enough for me, if common things she know,
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:
Who puzzles me with many an uncouth phrase,
From some old canticle of Numa's days;
Corrects her country friends, and cannot hear
Her husband solecise, without a sneer!
With subtleties of logick stuff her head;
Nor whirl her rapid syllogisms around,
Nor with imperfect enthymemes confound!
Enough for me, if common things she know,
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:
Who puzzles me with many an uncouth phrase,
From some old canticle of Numa's days;
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Her husband solecise, without a sneer!
A woman stops at nothing, when she wears
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 curst,
A wife who brings you money is the worst.
Behold! her face a spectacle appears,
Bloated, and foul, and plaister'd to the ears,
With viscous paste:—the husband looks askew,
And sticks his lips in this detested glue.
She meets the adulterer bath'd, perfumed, and drest,
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,
And, while the maids to know her now begin,
Clears, with that precious milk, her frowzy 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 daub'd and oil'd,
Thus poulticed, plaister'd, baked by turns and boil'd,
Thus with pomatums, ointments, lacker'd o'er,
Is it a face, Ursidius, or a sore?
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 curst,
A wife who brings you money is the worst.
Behold! her face a spectacle appears,
Bloated, and foul, and plaister'd to the ears,
With viscous paste:—the husband looks askew,
And sticks his lips in this detested glue.
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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,
And, while the maids to know her now begin,
Clears, with that precious milk, her frowzy skin,
255
She'd lead a drove of asses in her train!
But tell me yet; this thing, thus daub'd and oil'd,
Thus poulticed, plaister'd, baked by turns and boil'd,
Thus with pomatums, ointments, lacker'd o'er,
Is it a face, Ursidius, or a sore?
'Tis worth a little labour, to survey
Our wives more near, and trace 'em through the day.
If, dreadful to relate! the night foregone,
The husband turn'd his back, or lay alone,
All, all is lost; the housekeeper is stripp'd,
The tiremaid chidden, and the chairman whipp'd:
Rods, cords, and thongs, avenge the master's sleep,
And force the guiltless house to wake, and weep.
Our wives more near, and trace 'em through the day.
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The husband turn'd his back, or lay alone,
All, all is lost; the housekeeper is stripp'd,
The tiremaid chidden, and the chairman whipp'd:
Rods, cords, and thongs, avenge the master's sleep,
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,
Chat with their female gossips, or replace
The crack'd 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,
He drops the scourge; when, with a rancorous smile,
“Begone!” they thunder in a horrid tone,
“Now your accounts are settled, rogues, begone!”
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,
Chat with their female gossips, or replace
The crack'd 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,
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,
(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,
With locks dishevell'd, 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.
But why this fury?—Is the girl to blame,
If your air shocks you, or your features shame?
And now the hour of assignation press,
(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.
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With locks dishevell'd, 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.
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:
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.
So warm they grow, and so much pains they take,
You'd think her honour, 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?
A dwarf, a creature of a different kind:—
To open, and arrange the straggling hairs
In ringlets trim: meanwhile, the council meet:
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.
So warm they grow, and so much pains they take,
You'd think her honour, 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?
A dwarf, a creature of a different kind:—
258
Meanwhile, engross'd by these important cares,
She thinks not on her lord's distrest affairs,
Scarce on himself; but leads a separate life,
As if she were his neighbour, not his wife?
Or, but in this,—that all control she braves;
Hates where he loves, and squanders where he saves.
She thinks not on her lord's distrest affairs,
Scarce on himself; but leads a separate life,
As if she were his neighbour, not his wife?
Or, but in this,—that all control she braves;
Hates where he loves, and squanders where he saves.
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Room for Bellona's frantick votaries! room
For Cybele's mad enthusiasts! lo, they come!
A lusty semivir, whose part obscene,
A broken shell has sever'd smooth and clean,
A raw-boned, mitred priest, whom the whole choir
Of curtail'd priestlings, reverence and admire,
Enters, with his wild rout; and bids the fair,
Of autumn, and its sultry blasts, beware,
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!
For Cybele's mad enthusiasts! lo, they come!
A lusty semivir, whose part obscene,
A broken shell has sever'd smooth and clean,
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Of curtail'd priestlings, reverence and admire,
Enters, with his wild rout; and bids the fair,
Of autumn, and its sultry blasts, beware,
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,
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.
See her, in winter, near the Tiber stand,
261
Plunge in the crashing eddy to the ears;
262
Crawl round the banks, on bare and bleeding knees.
263
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,
To hold high converse, at the noon of night!
For this she cherishes above the rest,
Her Iö's favourite priest, a knave profest,
A holy hypocrite, who strolls abroad,
With his Anubis, his dog-headed god!
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!
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,
To hold high converse, at the noon of night!
For this she cherishes above the rest,
Her Iö's favourite priest, a knave profest,
A holy hypocrite, who strolls abroad,
With his Anubis, his dog-headed god!
264
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
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!
Yet he prevails:—Osiris hears his prayers,
And, soften'd by a goose, the culprit spares.
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!
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And, soften'd 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
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;
For Jews are moderate, and, for farthing fees,
Will sell what fortune, or what dreams you please.
And, trembling, begs a trifle in her ear.
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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;
For Jews are moderate, and, for farthing fees,
Will sell what fortune, or what dreams you please.
The prophetess dismiss'd, a Syrian sage
Now enters, and explores the future page,
In a dove's entrails: there he sees exprest,
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!
Now enters, and explores the future page,
In a dove's entrails: there he sees exprest,
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!
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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,
Conceals the future hour, from mortal sight.
Of these, the chief (such credit guilt obtains!)
Is he, who, banish'd oft, and oft in chains,
Stands forth the veriest knave; he who foretold
The death of Galba,—to his rival sold!
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,
Conceals the future hour, from mortal sight.
Of these, the chief (such credit guilt obtains!)
Is he, who, banish'd oft, and oft in chains,
Stands forth the veriest knave; he who foretold
The death of Galba,—to his rival sold!
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No juggler must for fame or profit hope,
Who has not narrowly escaped the rope;
Begg'd hard for exile, and, by special grace,
Obtain'd confinement in some desert place.—
To him your Tanaquil applies, in doubt
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,
Beyond her own;—content, if he but live,
And sure that heaven has nothing more to give!
Who has not narrowly escaped the rope;
Begg'd hard for exile, and, by special grace,
Obtain'd confinement in some desert place.—
To him your Tanaquil applies, in doubt
How long her jaundiced mother may hold out;
269
When she shall follow, to their funeral pyres,
Her sisters, and her uncles; last, if fate
Will kindly lengthen out the adulterer's date,
Beyond her own;—content, if he but live,
And sure that heaven has nothing more to give!
Yet she may still be suffer'd; for, what woes
The louring aspect of old Saturn shows;
Or in what sign bright Venus ought to rise,
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
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,
Before her chair be order'd, 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.
The louring aspect of old Saturn shows;
Or in what sign bright Venus ought to rise,
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
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,
270
Before her chair be order'd, 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.
The curse is universal: high and low,
Are mad alike the future hour to know.
The rich consult a Babylonian seer,
Skill'd in the mysteries of either sphere;
Or a gray-headed priest, hired by the state,
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 letcher in the table pries,
And claps it wantonly, with gloating eyes.
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,
The tapster, or old-clothes man? which refuse?
Are mad alike the future hour to know.
The rich consult a Babylonian seer,
Skill'd in the mysteries of either sphere;
Or a gray-headed priest, hired by the state,
To watch the lightning, and to expiate.
271
They lift the forehead, and make bare the hand;
While the sly letcher in the table pries,
And claps it wantonly, with gloating eyes.
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,
272
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.
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,
And give the potion, if the gossips fail;
For, should thy wife her nine months burthen 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!
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.
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,
And give the potion, if the gossips fail;
For, should thy wife her nine months burthen 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!
273
Supposititious breeds, the hope, and joy
Of fond, believing, husbands, I pass by;
The beggars' bantlings, spawn'd in open air,
And left by some pond side, to perish there.—
From hence your Flamens, hence your Salians come;
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:
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,
And wealth and honours dropping on their head!
Of fond, believing, husbands, I pass by;
The beggars' bantlings, spawn'd in open air,
And left by some pond side, to perish there.—
From hence your Flamens, hence your Salians come;
Your Scauri, chiefs and magistrates of Rome!
Fortune stands tittering by, in playful mood,
And smiles, complacent, on the sprawling brood;
274
Feeds from her mouth, and in her bosom warms:
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,
And wealth and honours 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.
Hence that swift lapse to second childhood; hence,
Those vapours 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,
And force you, like Caligula, to rave,
When his Cæsonia squeezed into the bowl,
The dire excrescence of a new-dropt foal.—
Then Uproar rose; the universal chain
Of Order snapp'd, and Anarchy's wild reign
Came on apace, as if the queen of heaven
Had fired the Thunderer, and to madness driven.
Thessalian philters, to subdue the will
Of an uxorious spouse, and make him bear,
Blows, insults, all a saucy wife can dare.
Hence that swift lapse to second childhood; hence,
Those vapours which envelop every sense;
This strange forgetfulness from hour to hour;
And well, if this be all:—more fatal power,
275
And force you, like Caligula, to rave,
When his Cæsonia squeezed into the bowl,
The dire excrescence of a new-dropt foal.—
Then Uproar rose; the universal chain
Of Order snapp'd, and Anarchy's wild reign
Came on apace, as if the queen of heaven
Had fired the Thunderer, and to madness driven.
276
Thy mushroom, Agrippine! was innocent,
To this accursed draught; that only sent
One palsied, bedrid sot, with gummy eyes,
And slavering lips, heels foremost to the skies:
This, to wild fury roused a bloody mind,
And call'd for fire and sword; this potion join'd,
In one promiscuous slaughter, high and low,
And levell'd half the nation at a blow.
Such is the power of philters! such the ill,
One sorceress can effect by wicked skill!
To this accursed draught; that only sent
277
And slavering lips, heels foremost to the skies:
This, to wild fury roused a bloody mind,
And call'd for fire and sword; this potion join'd,
In one promiscuous slaughter, high and low,
And levell'd half the nation at a blow.
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 further; and 'tis now some time,
Since poisoning sons-in-law scarce seem'd 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;
See! it looks livid, swoll'n:—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.
If this were all, were not, perhaps, amiss:
But they go further; and 'tis now some time,
Since poisoning sons-in-law scarce seem'd 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;
See! it looks livid, swoll'n:—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
Of Satire, and encroach on Tragick ground!
Deserting truth, I choose a fabled theme,
And, like the buskin'd bards of Greece, declaim,
In deep-mouth'd tones, in swelling strains, on crimes
As yet unknown to our Rutulian climes!
Would it were so! but Pontia cries aloud,
“No, I perform'd it.” See! the fact's avow'd—
“I mingled poison for my children, I;
“'Twas found upon me, wherefore then deny?”
What, two at once, most barbarous viper! two!
“Nay, sev'n, had sev'n been mine: believe it true!”
Of Satire, and encroach on Tragick ground!
Deserting truth, I choose a fabled theme,
And, like the buskin'd bards of Greece, declaim,
278
As yet unknown to our Rutulian climes!
Would it were so! but Pontia cries aloud,
“No, I perform'd it.” See! the fact's avow'd—
279
“'Twas found upon me, wherefore then deny?”
What, two at once, most barbarous viper! two!
“Nay, sev'n, had sev'n been mine: believe it true!”
Now let us credit what the tragick stage,
Displays of Progne, and Medea's rage;
Crimes of dire name, which, disbelieved of yore,
Become familiar, and revolt no more.
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 horrours as from bursts of fury rise,
When stormy passions, scorning all control,
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.
Displays of Progne, and Medea's rage;
Crimes of dire name, which, disbelieved of yore,
Become familiar, and revolt no more.
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 horrours as from bursts of fury rise,
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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.
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
Their lords of breath, to keep their dogs alive!
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
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, hack'd out their husbands' lives;
While now, the deed is done with dextrous art,
And a drugg'd 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
To the old weapon, for a last resource.
And Clytemnestras swarm in every street;
But here the difference lies:—those bungling wives,
With a blunt axe, hack'd out their husbands' lives;
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And a drugg'd 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
To the old weapon, for a last resource.
| The Satires of Decimus Junius Juvenalis | |