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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| IV. | SATIRE IV. |
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| XIII. |
| XIV. |
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| XVI. |
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 | The Satires of Decimus Junius Juvenalis |  |
139
SATIRE IV.
141
Again Crispinus comes! and yet again,
And oft, shall he be summon'd to sustain
His dreadful part:—the monster of the times,
Without one virtue to redeem his crimes!
Diseased, emaciate, weak in all but lust,
And whom the widow's sweets alone disgust.
And oft, shall he be summon'd to sustain
His dreadful part:—the monster of the times,
Without one virtue to redeem his crimes!
Diseased, emaciate, weak in all but lust,
And whom the widow's sweets alone disgust.
142
Avails it then, in what long colonnades
He tires his mules? through what extensive glades
His chair is borne? what vast estates he buys,
What splendid domes, that round the Forum rise?
Ah, no!—Peace visits not the guilty mind,
Least his, who incest to adultery join'd,
And stain'd thy priestess, Vesta;—whom, dire fate!
The long dark night and living tomb await.
He tires his mules? through what extensive glades
His chair is borne? what vast estates he buys,
What splendid domes, that round the Forum rise?
Ah, no!—Peace visits not the guilty mind,
Least his, who incest to adultery join'd,
And stain'd thy priestess, Vesta;—whom, dire fate!
The long dark night and living tomb await.
143
Turn we to slighter vices:—yet had these,
In others, Seius, Titius, whom you please,
The Censor roused; for what the good would shame,
Becomes Crispinus, and is honest fame.
But when the actor's person far exceeds,
In native loathsomeness, his loathsom'st deeds,
Say, what can satire? For a fish that weigh'd
Six pounds, six thousand sesterces he paid!
As those report, who catch, with greedy ear,
And magnify the mighty things they hear.
Had this expense been meant, with well-timed skill,
To gull some childless dotard of a Will;
Or bribe some rich and fashionable fair,
Who flaunts it in a close, wide-window'd, chair;
'Twere worth our praise:—but no such plot was here:
'Twas for himself he bought a treat so dear!
This, all past gluttony from shame redeems,
And even Apicius poor and frugal seems.
What! You, Crispinus, brought to Rome, erewhile,
Lapt in the rushes of your native Nile,
Buy scales, at such a price! you might, I guess,
Have bought the fisherman himself for less;
Bought, in some countries, manors at this rate,
And, in Apulia, an immense estate!
In others, Seius, Titius, whom you please,
144
Becomes Crispinus, and is honest fame.
But when the actor's person far exceeds,
In native loathsomeness, his loathsom'st deeds,
Say, what can satire? For a fish that weigh'd
Six pounds, six thousand sesterces he paid!
As those report, who catch, with greedy ear,
And magnify the mighty things they hear.
145
To gull some childless dotard of a Will;
Or bribe some rich and fashionable fair,
Who flaunts it in a close, wide-window'd, chair;
146
'Twas for himself he bought a treat so dear!
This, all past gluttony from shame redeems,
And even Apicius poor and frugal seems.
What! You, Crispinus, brought to Rome, erewhile,
Lapt in the rushes of your native Nile,
Buy scales, at such a price! you might, I guess,
Have bought the fisherman himself for less;
147
And, in Apulia, an immense estate!
How gorged the Emperour, when so dear a fish,
Yet, of his cheapest meals, the cheapest dish,
Was guttled down by this impurpled lord,
Chief knight, chief parasite, at Cæsar's board,
Whom Memphis heard so late, with ceaseless yell,
Clamouring through all her streets—“Ho! shads to sell!”
Yet, of his cheapest meals, the cheapest dish,
Was guttled down by this impurpled lord,
Chief knight, chief parasite, at Cæsar's board,
Whom Memphis heard so late, with ceaseless yell,
Clamouring through all her streets—“Ho! shads to sell!”
Pierian Maids, begin;—but, quit your lyres,
The fact I bring, no lofty chord requires:
Relate it, then, and in the simplest strain,
Nor let the poet style you Maids, in vain.
The fact I bring, no lofty chord requires:
Relate it, then, and in the simplest strain,
Nor let the poet style you Maids, in vain.
When the last Flavius, drunk with fury, tore
The prostrate world, which bled at every pore,
And Rome beheld, in body as in mind,
A bald-pate Nero rise, to curse mankind;
It chanced, that where the sane of Venus stands,
Rear'd on Ancona's coast by Grecian hands,
A turbot, wandering from the Illyrian main,
Fill'd the wide bosom of the bursting seine.
Monsters so bulky, from its frozen stream,
Mæotis renders to the solar beam,
And pours them, fat with a whole winter's ease,
Through the bleak Euxine, into warmer seas.
The prostrate world, which bled at every pore,
And Rome beheld, in body as in mind,
A bald-pate Nero rise, to curse mankind;
148
Rear'd on Ancona's coast by Grecian hands,
149
Fill'd the wide bosom of the bursting seine.
Monsters so bulky, from its frozen stream,
Mæotis renders to the solar beam,
And pours them, fat with a whole winter's ease,
Through the bleak Euxine, into warmer seas.
The mighty draught the astonish'd boatman eyes,
And, to the Pontiff's table, dooms his prize:
For who would dare to sell it? who to buy?
When the coast swarm'd with many a practis'd spy,
Mud-rakers, prompt to swear the fish had fled
From Cæsar's ponds, ingrate! where long it fed,
And thus recaptured, claim'd to be restored,
To the dominion of its ancient lord!
Nay, if Palphurius may our credit gain,
Whatever rare or precious swims the main,
Is forfeit to the crown, and you may seize
The obnoxious dainty, when and where you please.
This point allow'd, our wary boatman chose
To give—what else, he had not fail'd to lose.
And, to the Pontiff's table, dooms his prize:
For who would dare to sell it? who to buy?
When the coast swarm'd with many a practis'd spy,
150
From Cæsar's ponds, ingrate! where long it fed,
And thus recaptured, claim'd to be restored,
To the dominion of its ancient lord!
Nay, if Palphurius may our credit gain,
Whatever rare or precious swims the main,
Is forfeit to the crown, and you may seize
The obnoxious dainty, when and where you please.
This point allow'd, our wary boatman chose
To give—what else, he had not fail'd to lose.
Now were the dogstar's sickly fervours o'er,
Earth, pinch'd with cold, her frozen livery wore;
The old began their quartan fits to fear,
And wintry blasts deform'd the beauteous year,
And kept the turbot sweet: yet on he flew,
As if the sultry South corruption blew.—
And now the lake, and now the hill he gains,
Where Alba, though in ruins, still maintains
The Trojan fire, which, but for her, were lost,
And worships Vesta, though with less of cost.
Earth, pinch'd with cold, her frozen livery wore;
151
And wintry blasts deform'd the beauteous year,
And kept the turbot sweet: yet on he flew,
As if the sultry South corruption blew.—
And now the lake, and now the hill he gains,
Where Alba, though in ruins, still maintains
The Trojan fire, which, but for her, were lost,
And worships Vesta, though with less of cost.
The wondering crowd, that gather'd to survey
The enormous fish, and barr'd the fisher's way,
Satiate, at length retires; the gates unfold!—
Murmuring, th' excluded senators behold
The envied dainty enter;—On the man
To great Atrides press'd, and thus began.
The enormous fish, and barr'd the fisher's way,
Satiate, at length retires; the gates unfold!—
Murmuring, th' excluded senators behold
152
To great Atrides press'd, and thus began.
“This, for a private table far too great,
“Accept, and sumptuously your Genius treat:
“Haste to unload your stomach, and devour,
“A turbot, destined to this happy hour.
“I sought him not;—he mark'd the toils I set,
“And rush'd, a willing victim, to the net.”
“Accept, and sumptuously your Genius treat:
153
“A turbot, destined to this happy hour.
“I sought him not;—he mark'd the toils I set,
“And rush'd, a willing victim, to the net.”
Was flattery e'er so rank! yet he grows vain,
And his crest rises at the fulsome strain.
When, to divine, a mortal power we raise,
He looks for no hyperboles in praise.
And his crest rises at the fulsome strain.
When, to divine, a mortal power we raise,
He looks for no hyperboles in praise.
But when was joy unmix'd? no pot is found,
Capacious of the turbot's ample round:
In this distress, he calls the chiefs of state,
At once the objects of his scorn and hate,
In whose pale cheeks distrust and doubt appear,
And all a tyrant's friendship breeds of fear.
Capacious of the turbot's ample round:
In this distress, he calls the chiefs of state,
At once the objects of his scorn and hate,
154
And all a tyrant's friendship breeds of fear.
Scarce was the loud Liburnian heard to say,
“He sits,” ere Pegasus was on his way;
Yes:—the new bailiff of the affrighted town,
(For what were Præfects more?) had snatch'd his gown,
And rush'd to council: From the ivory chair,
He dealt out justice with no common care;
But yielded oft to those licentious times,
And where he could not punish, wink'd at crimes.
“He sits,” ere Pegasus was on his way;
155
(For what were Præfects more?) had snatch'd his gown,
156
He dealt out justice with no common care;
But yielded oft to those licentious times,
And where he could not punish, wink'd at crimes.
Then old, facetious Crispus tript along,
Of gentle manners, and persuasive tongue:
None fitter to advise the Lord of All,
Had that pernicious pest, whom thus we call,
Allow'd a friend to sooth his savage mood,
And give him counsel, wise at once and good.
But who shall dare this liberty to take,
When, every word you hazard, life's at stake?
Though but of stormy summers, showery springs—
For tyrants' ears, alas! are ticklish things.
So did the good old man his tongue restrain;
Nor strove to stem the torrent's force in vain.
Not one of those, who, by no fears deterr'd,
Spoke the free soul, and truth to life preferr'd,
He temporized—thus fourscore summers fled,
Even in that court, securely, o'er his head.
Of gentle manners, and persuasive tongue:
157
Had that pernicious pest, whom thus we call,
Allow'd a friend to sooth his savage mood,
And give him counsel, wise at once and good.
But who shall dare this liberty to take,
When, every word you hazard, life's at stake?
Though but of stormy summers, showery springs—
For tyrants' ears, alas! are ticklish things.
So did the good old man his tongue restrain;
Nor strove to stem the torrent's force in vain.
Not one of those, who, by no fears deterr'd,
Spoke the free soul, and truth to life preferr'd,
He temporized—thus fourscore summers fled,
Even in that court, securely, o'er his head.
Next him, appear'd Acilius hurrying on,
Of equal age,—and follow'd by his son;
Who fell, unjustly fell, in early years,
A victim to the tyrant's jealous fears:
But long ere this, were hoary hairs become,
A prodigy, among the great, at Rome;
Hence, had I rather owe my humble birth,
Frail brother of the giant-brood, to earth.
Poor youth! in vain the ancient sleight you try;
In vain, with frantick air, and ardent eye,
Fling every robe aside, and battle wage,
With bears and lions, on the Alban stage.
All see the trick: and, spite of Brutus' skill,
There are who count him but a driveller still;
Since, in his days, it cost no mighty pains,
T' outwit a prince, with much more beard than brains.
Of equal age,—and follow'd by his son;
158
A victim to the tyrant's jealous fears:
159
A prodigy, among the great, at Rome;
Hence, had I rather owe my humble birth,
Frail brother of the giant-brood, to earth.
Poor youth! in vain the ancient sleight you try;
In vain, with frantick air, and ardent eye,
Fling every robe aside, and battle wage,
With bears and lions, on the Alban stage.
All see the trick: and, spite of Brutus' skill,
There are who count him but a driveller still;
Since, in his days, it cost no mighty pains,
T' outwit a prince, with much more beard than brains.
Rubrius, though not, like these, of noble race,
Follow'd with equal terrour in his face;
And, labouring with a crime too foul to name,
More, than the pathick satirist, lost to shame.
Follow'd with equal terrour in his face;
160
More, than the pathick satirist, lost to shame.
Montanus' belly next, and next appear'd
The legs, on which that monstrous pile was rear'd.
The legs, on which that monstrous pile was rear'd.
Crispinus follow'd, daub'd with more perfume,
Thus early! than two funerals consume.
Then bloodier Pompey, practised to betray,
And hesitate the noblest lives away.
Then Fuscus, who in studious pomp at home,
Plann'd future triumphs for the Arms of Rome.
Blind to the event! those arms, a different fate,
Inglorious wounds, and Dacian vultures, wait.
Thus early! than two funerals consume.
161
And hesitate the noblest lives away.
Then Fuscus, who in studious pomp at home,
Plann'd future triumphs for the Arms of Rome.
Blind to the event! those arms, a different fate,
Inglorious wounds, and Dacian vultures, wait.
Last, sly Veiento with Catullus came,
Deadly Catullus, who, at beauty's name,
Took fire, although unseen: a wretch, whose crimes
Struck with amaze even those prodigious times.
A base, blind parasite, a murderous lord,
From the bridge-end, raised to the council-board;
Yet fitter still to dog the traveller's heels,
And whine for alms to the descending wheels!
None dwelt so largely on the turbot's size,
Or raised, with such applause, his wondering eyes;
But to the left (O, treacherous want of sight)
He pour'd his praise;—the fish was on the right!
Thus would he at the fencer's matches sit,
And shout with rapture, at some fancied hit;
And thus applaud the stage-machinery, where
The youths were rapt aloft, and lost in air.
Deadly Catullus, who, at beauty's name,
162
Struck with amaze even those prodigious times.
163
From the bridge-end, raised to the council-board;
Yet fitter still to dog the traveller's heels,
And whine for alms to the descending wheels!
None dwelt so largely on the turbot's size,
Or raised, with such applause, his wondering eyes;
But to the left (O, treacherous want of sight)
He pour'd his praise;—the fish was on the right!
Thus would he at the fencer's matches sit,
And shout with rapture, at some fancied hit;
164
The youths were rapt aloft, and lost in air.
165
Nor fell Veiento short:—as if possest,
With all Bellona's rage, his labouring breast
Burst forth in prophecy; “I see, I see,
“The omens of some glorious victory!
“Some powerful monarch captured!—lo, he rears,
“Horrent on every side, his pointed spears!
“Arviragus hurl'd from the British car:
“The fish is foreign, foreign is the war.”
With all Bellona's rage, his labouring breast
Burst forth in prophecy; “I see, I see,
“The omens of some glorious victory!
“Some powerful monarch captured!—lo, he rears,
“Horrent on every side, his pointed spears!
166
“The fish is foreign, foreign is the war.”
Proceed, great Seer, and what remains untold,
The turbot's age and country, next unfold;
So shall your lord his fortunes better know,
And where the conquest waits, and who the foe.
The turbot's age and country, next unfold;
So shall your lord his fortunes better know,
And where the conquest waits, and who the foe.
The Emperour now the important question put,
“How say ye, Fathers, shall the fish be cut?”
“O, far be that disgrace,” Montanus cries;
“No, let a pot be form'd, of amplest size,
“Within whose slender sides, the fish, dread Sire,
“May spread his vast circumference intire!
“Bring, bring the temper'd clay, and let it feel
“The quick gyrations of the plastick wheel:—
“But, Cæsar, thus forewarn'd, make no campaign,
“Unless your potters follow in your train!”
“How say ye, Fathers, shall the fish be cut?”
167
“No, let a pot be form'd, of amplest size,
“Within whose slender sides, the fish, dread Sire,
“May spread his vast circumference intire!
“Bring, bring the temper'd clay, and let it feel
“The quick gyrations of the plastick wheel:—
“But, Cæsar, thus forewarn'd, make no campaign,
“Unless your potters follow in your train!”
Montanus ended; all approved the plan,
And all, the speech, so worthy of the man!
Vers'd in the old court luxury, he knew,
The feasts of Nero, and his midnight crew;
Where, oft, when potent draughts had fired the brain,
The jaded taste, was spurr'd to gorge again.—
And, in my time, none understood so well,
The science of good eating: he could tell,
At the first relish, if his oysters fed
On the Rutupian, or the Lucrine bed;
And from a crab, or lobster's colour, name,
The country, nay the district, whence it came.
And all, the speech, so worthy of the man!
Vers'd in the old court luxury, he knew,
The feasts of Nero, and his midnight crew;
168
The jaded taste, was spurr'd to gorge again.—
And, in my time, none understood so well,
The science of good eating: he could tell,
At the first relish, if his oysters fed
On the Rutupian, or the Lucrine bed;
And from a crab, or lobster's colour, name,
The country, nay the district, whence it came.
Here closed the solemn farce. The Fathers rise,
And each, submissive, from the presence hies:—
Pale, trembling wretches, whom the Chief, in sport,
Had dragg'd, astonish'd, to the Alban court;
As if the stern Sicambri were in arms,
Or the fierce Catti threaten'd new alarms;
As if ill news by flying posts had come,
And gathering nations sought the fall of Rome!
And each, submissive, from the presence hies:—
Pale, trembling wretches, whom the Chief, in sport,
Had dragg'd, astonish'd, to the Alban court;
As if the stern Sicambri were in arms,
Or the fierce Catti threaten'd new alarms;
169
And gathering nations sought the fall of Rome!
O! that such scenes, (disgraceful at the most,)
Had all those years of cruelty engrost,
Through which, his rage pursued the great and good,
Uncheck'd, while vengeance slumber'd o'er their blood!
And yet he fell!—for when he changed his game,
And first grew dreadful to the vulgar name,
They seized the murderer, drench'd with Lamian gore,
And hurl'd him, headlong, to the infernal shore!
Had all those years of cruelty engrost,
Through which, his rage pursued the great and good,
Uncheck'd, while vengeance slumber'd o'er their blood!
And yet he fell!—for when he changed his game,
And first grew dreadful to the vulgar name,
They seized the murderer, drench'd with Lamian gore,
And hurl'd him, headlong, to the infernal shore!
| The Satires of Decimus Junius Juvenalis | |