Tag: Martial

How To Earn A Dinner Invitation: Some Roman Advice (Hint: Lie)

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Martial 9.35

“You will always earn a dinner with these skills, Philomusus:
Fabricate many tales, but relay them as if they are true.
You know what Pacorus is considering in his Arsacian abode;
You count the number of Rhenish and Sarmatian men,
You reveal the words consigned to paper by the Dacian chef,
And you see the victor’s crown before it arrives.
You know how many times Pharian rain dampens dark Syene
And the number of ships departing from Lybian shores
For whose head Julian olives are harvested,
And for whom the heavenly father has promised his wreaths.
Forget your skill! You will dine with me today
Under one rule: Philomusus, tell me nothing of the news.”

Artibus his semper cenam, Philomuse, mereris,
plurima dum fingis, sed quasi vera refers.
scis quid in Arsacia Pacorus deliberet aula,
Rhenanam numeras Sarmaticamque manum,
verba ducis Daci chartis mandata resignas, 5
victricem laurum quam venit ante vides,
scis quotiens Phario madeat Iove fusca Syene,
scis quota de Libyco litore puppis eat,
cuius Iuleae capiti nascantur olivae,
destinet aetherius cui sua serta pater. 10
Tolle tuas artes; hodie cenabis apud me
hac lege, ut narres nil, Philomuse, novi.

Image result for Ancient Roman Feasting

Avoid All Teachers and Professors (Back to School Week)

~ Erik ~ 2 Comments

Martial, Epigrams 5.58:

“Lupus, you ask long and anxiously to what teacher you should entrust your son. I advise you to avoid all teachers and professors: don’t let him have anything to do with the books of Cicero or Vergil. Let him leave Tutilius to his own reputation. If he writes verses, you will disown him as a poet. Does he want to learn a more… pecuniary skill? Make him learn to be a lute player or a flute player; if he seems a bit on the untalented side, just make him an auctioneer or a builder.”

56

Cui tradas, Lupe, filium magistro
quaeris sollicitus diu rogasque.
Omnes grammaticosque rhetorasque
deuites moneo: nihil sit illi
cum libris Ciceronis aut Maronis;              5
famae Tutilium suae relinquat;
si uersus facit, abdices poetam.
Artes discere uolt pecuniosas?
Fac discat citharoedus aut choraules;
si duri puer ingeni uidetur,              10
praeconem facias uel architectum.

A Terrible, Awful Poem from Martial (NSFW)

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Martial, Epigrams 11.21

As usual, these Tuesday entries will seem truly abominable to some. Caveat Lector.

“Lydia is as wide as the ass of a bronze rider’s horse,
Or a fast hoop that sounds its clattering bronze,
Or a wheel crossed untouched by an acrobat,
Or an old shoe wet with muddy water,
Or as the wide nets that wait for wandering birds,
Or the awnings which close Pompey’s theater to the South Wind,
Or as arm-jewelry slipped off a diseased male-hooker,
Or a mattress separated from its Leuconian stuffing,
Or the old trousers of a British pauper,
Or the foul throat of a Revennian Pelican.
I am reputed to have fucked her in a salty fishpond.
I am not sure: I think I fucked the fishpond.”

Lydia tam laxa est equitis quam culus aeni,
quam celer arguto qui sonat aere trochus,
quam rota transmisso totiens inpacta petauro,
quam vetus a crassa calceus udus aqua,
quam quae rara vagos expectant retia turdos,
quam Pompeiano vela negata Noto,
quam quae de pthisico lapsa est armilla cinaedo,
culcita Leuconico quam viduata suo,
quam veteres bracae Brittonis pauperis, et quam
urpe Ravennatis guttur onocrotali.
Hanc in piscina dicor futuisse marina.
Nescio; piscinam me futuisse puto.

 

Image result for ancient Roman fish

 

 

I Love It When They Hate Me

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Martial, 6.60

“My Rome praises, loves, and sings my little books—
Every pocket, every hand holds me.
Look: someone turns red, yellow, is dumbstruck, looks again, and hates!
This is what I long for: now my songs have pleased even me.”

Laudat, amat, cantat nostros mea Roma libellos,
meque sinus omnes, me manus omnis habet.
Ecce rubet quidam, pallet, stupet, oscitat, odit.
Hoc uolo: nunc nobis carmina nostra placent.

Image result for Ancient Roman Hate

(NSFW) Famous Indulgences

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Martial 2.89

“Gaurus, I can pardon you when you have fun drawing out your night with too much wine: that was Cato’s vice too. You ought to be praised when you write poems without the blessing of Apollo or the Muses, for that was Cicero’s vice. When you vomit, you share Antonius’ vice, and when you indulge yourself, that of Apicius. But tell me: whose vice do you share when you gorge yourself on cock?”

Quod nimio gaudes noctem producere uino
ignosco: uitium, Gaure, Catonis habes.
Carmina quod scribis Musis et Apolline nullo
laudari debes: hoc Ciceronis habes.
Quod uomis, Antoni: quod luxuriaris, Apici.
Quod fellas, uitium dic mihi cuius habes?

 

NOTE: Cato, despite his censorious attitude, was a heavy drinker. Cicero’s poetry was much reviled in antiquity. Marc Anthony was known for partying, and even composed a treatise on his own drunkenness. Apicius was a Roman gourmet.

A Tawdry Tale of (Erectile) Dysfunction

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Martial, Epigrams 11.71

“Leda informed her ancient husband that she is crazy
And complains that she needs to be fucked.
But as she weeps and groans, she denies that sanity is worth the price
And claims instead that she prefers to die.
Her husband pleads for her to live, not to squander her best years—
And the act he does not perform himself to others he allows.
Immediately the gentleman doctors arrive and the lady medics leave:
Feet are raised! What a serious treatment!”

Hystericam vetulo se dixerat esse marito
et queritur futui Leda necesse sibi;
sed flens atque gemens tanti negat esse salutem
seque refert potius proposuisse mori.
Vir rogat ut vivat virides nec deserat annos,
et fieri quod iam non facit ipse sinit.
Protinus accedunt medici medicaeque recedunt,
tollunturque pedes. O medicina gravis!

kai-su

11.72
“Natta swallows his own Draucus’ ‘little penis’—
Compared to him, Priapus is a Eunuch!”

Drauci Natta sui vorat pipinnam,
collatus cui gallus est Priapus.

A Band of F**kers – Martial 1.73

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No one in this city would
touch your wife, while free they could;
now she’s guarded, there’s a band
of fuckers for her – clever man!

Nullus in urbe fuit tota qui tangere uellet
uxorem gratis, Caeciliane, tuam,
dum licuit: sed nunc positis custodibus ingens
turba fututorum est: ingeniosus homo es.

No Poem Without a Penis: Martial 1.35

~ Erik ~ 5 Comments

“Cornelius, you complain that I write poems which are not serious enough, and which a teacher would not read in school: but my poems, just like a husband with his wife, cannot please without a penis. Would you have me write a wedding song without mentioning a wedding? Who would require clothes at the Floralia, or would put a long dress on a whore? This is the rule with funny poems: they are no good unless they have something a bit licentious. So put away your serious glare and please, cut my games and jokes a little slack, and don’t cut the balls off my books. There is nothing uglier than a castrated Priapus.”

Versus scribere me parum seueros
nec quos praelegat in schola magister,
Corneli, quereris: sed hi libelli,
tamquam coniugibus suis mariti,
non possunt sine mentula placere.              5
Quid si me iubeas thalassionem
uerbis dicere non thalassionis?
quis Floralia uestit et stolatum
permittit meretricibus pudorem?
Lex haec carminibus data est iocosis,              10
ne possint, nisi pruriant, iuuare.
Quare deposita seueritate
parcas lusibus et iocis rogamus,
nec castrare uelis meos libellos
Gallo turpis est nihil Priapo.

Martial on the Brevity of Life – “Live Yesterday!”

~ Erik ~ 3 Comments

“Postumus, you always say that you will live tomorrow, tomorrow! But that ‘tomorrow’ of yours – when does it ever come? How far off is that ‘tomorrow’! Where is it, or where should it be sought? Does it lie hidden among the Parthians, or the Armenians? That ‘tomorrow’ is as old as Priam or Nestor. For how much can ‘tomorrow’ be purchased? You will live tomorrow, you say? Postumus, even living today is too late; he is the wise man, who lived yesterday.“

Roman-mosaic-know-thyself

Martial 5.58:

Cras te uicturum, cras dicis, Postume, semper:
dic mihi, cras istud, Postume, quando uenit?
Quam longe cras istud! ubi est? aut unde petendum?
Numquid apud Parthos Armeniosque latet?
Iam cras istud habet Priami uel Nestoris annos.              5
Cras istud quanti, dic mihi, possit emi?
Cras uiues? Hodie iam uiuere, Postume, serum est:
ille sapit quisquis, Postume, uixit heri.

Martial on the Decline of Liberal Education (5.58)

~ Erik ~ 3 Comments

“Lupus, you ask long and anxiously to what teacher you should entrust your son. I advise you to avoid all teachers and professors: don’t let him have anything to do with the books of Cicero or Vergil. Let him leave Tutilius to his own reputation. If he writes verses, you will disown him as a poet. Does he want to learn a more… pecuniary skill? Make him learn to be a lute player or a flute player; if he seems a bit on the untalented side, just make him an auctioneer or a builder.”

56

Cui tradas, Lupe, filium magistro
quaeris sollicitus diu rogasque.
Omnes grammaticosque rhetorasque
deuites moneo: nihil sit illi
cum libris Ciceronis aut Maronis;              5
famae Tutilium suae relinquat;
si uersus facit, abdices poetam.
Artes discere uolt pecuniosas?
Fac discat citharoedus aut choraules;
si duri puer ingeni uidetur,              10
praeconem facias uel architectum.