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Satire IX
Translated by Philip Francis
MUSING, as wont, on this and that, | |
| Such trifles as I know not what, | |
| When late the street I sauntered through, | |
| A wight, whose name I hardly knew, | |
| Approaching pertly, makes me stand, | 5 |
| And thus accosts me, hand in hand: | |
| “How do you do, my sweetest man?” | |
| Quoth I, “As well as mortal can, | |
| And my best wishes yours, when he | |
| Would follow. What ’s your will with me?” | 10 |
| “That one of your profound discerning | |
| Should know me: I ’m a man of learning.” | |
| “Why, then, be sure upon that score | |
| You merit my regard the more.” | |
| Impatient to discard the fop, | 15 |
| One while I run, another stop, | |
| And whisper, as he presses near, | |
| Some nothing in my servant’s ear. | |
| But while at every pore I sweated, | |
| And thus in muttering silence fretted,— | 20 |
| “Bolanus, happy in a skull | |
| Of proof, impenetrably dull, | |
| O for a portion of thy brains!”— | |
| He on the town and streets and lanes | |
| His prating, praising talent tried, | 25 |
| And, when I answered not, he cried: | |
| “Ay, ’t is too plain; you can’t deceive me, | |
| You miserably wish to leave me, | |
| But I shall never quit you so; | |
| Command me,—whither would you go?” | 30 |
| “You do me honor, but, in short, | |
| There ’s not the least occasion for ’t. | |
| I visit one,—to cut the strife,— | |
| You never saw him in your life; | |
| Nor would I lead you such a round,— | 35 |
| He lives above a mile of ground | |
| Beyond the Tiber.” “Never talk | |
| Of distance, for I love a walk. | |
| I never have the least enjoyment | |
| In idleness: I want employment. | 40 |
| Come on; I must and will attend | |
| Your person to your journey’s end.” | |
| Like vicious ass, that fretting bears | |
| A wicked load, I hang my ears, | |
| While he, renewing his civilities, | 45 |
| “If well I know my own abilities, | |
| Not Viscus, though your friend of yore, | |
| Not Varius could engage you more; | |
| For who can write melodious lays | |
| With greater elegance or ease? | 50 |
| Who moves with smoother grace his limbs | |
| While through the mazy dance he swims? | |
| Besides, I sing to that degree, | |
| Hermogenes might envy me.” | |
| “Have you no mother, sister, friends, | 55 |
| Whose welfare on your health depends?” | |
| “Not one; I saw them all by turns | |
| Securely settled in their urns.” | |
| “Thrice happy they, secure from pain! | |
| And I thy victim now remain: | 60 |
| Despatch me; for my goody-nurse | |
| Early presaged this heavy curse: | |
| She conned it by the sieve and shears, | |
| And now it falls upon my ears,— | |
| Nor poison fell, with ruin stored, | 65 |
| Nor horrid point of hostile sword, | |
| Nor pleurisy, nor asthma-cough, | |
| Nor cripple-gout shall cut him off; | |
| A noisy tongue and babbling breath | |
| Shall tease and talk my child to death. | 70 |
| But if he would avert his fate, | |
| When he arrives at man’s estate, | |
| Let him avoid, as he would hanging, | |
| Your folks long-winded in haranguing. | |
| We came to Vesta’s about ten, | 75 |
| And he was bound in person then | |
| To stand a suit, or by the laws | |
| He must have forfeited his cause. | |
| “Sir, if you love me, step aside | |
| A little into court,” he cried. | 80 |
| “If I can stand it out,” quoth I, | |
| “Or know the practice, let me die; | |
| Besides, I am obliged to go | |
| Precisely to the place you know.” | |
| “I am divided what to do, | 85 |
| Whether to leave my cause or you.” | |
| “Sir, I beseech you spare your pains. | |
| Your humble servant.” “By no means.” | |
| I follow, for he leads the way; | |
| ’T is death; but captives must obey. | 90 |
| Then he renews his plaguy strain, as, | |
| “How stands your friendship with Mæcenas?” | |
| “For friendships, he contracts but few, | |
| And shows in that his judgment true.” | |
| “Commend me to your brother-bard, | 95 |
| No man has played a surer card. | |
| But you should have a man of art; | |
| One who might act an under-part. | |
| If you were pleased to recommend | |
| The man I mention, to your friend, | 100 |
| Sir, may I never see the light | |
| But you shall rout your rivals quite!” | |
| “We live not there, as you suppose, | |
| On such precarious terms as those: | |
| No family was ever purer; | 105 |
| From such infections none securer. | |
| It never hurts me in the least, | |
| That one excels in wealth or taste; | |
| Each person there of course inherits | |
| A place proportioned to his merits.” | 110 |
| “’T is wonderful, and, to be brief, | |
| A thing almost beyond belief.” | |
| “But whether you believe, or no, | |
| The matter is exactly so.” | |
| “This adds but fuel to the fire, | 115 |
| The more you kindle my desire | |
| To kiss his hand, and pay my court.” | |
| “Assail, and you shall take the fort. | |
| Such is the vigor of your wit, | |
| And he is one that can submit; | 120 |
| The first attack is therefore nice, | |
| The matter is to break the ice.” | |
| “I sha’ n’t be wanting there,” he cried, | |
| “I ’ll bribe his servants to my side; | |
| To-day shut out, still onward press, | 125 |
| And watch the seasons of access; | |
| In private haunt, in public meet, | |
| Salute, escort him through the street. | |
| There ’s nothing gotten in this life | |
| Without a world of toil and strife!” | 130 |
| While thus he racks my tortured ears, | |
| A much-loved friend of mine appears, | |
| Aristius Fuscus, one who knew | |
| My sweet companion through and through. | |
| We stop, exchanging “so and so”: | 135 |
| “Whence come, and whither do you go?” | |
| I then began in woful wise | |
| To nod my head, distort my eyes, | |
| And pull his renegado sleeve, | |
| That he would grant me a reprieve; | 140 |
| But he was absent all the while, | |
| Malicious with a leering smile. | |
| Provoked at his dissimulation, | |
| I burst with spleen and indignation. | |
| “I know not what you had to tell | 145 |
| In private.” “I remember well: | |
| But shall a day of business choose, | |
| This is the Sabbath of the Jews; | |
| You would not thus offend the leathern | |
| Curtailed assemblies of the brethren.” | 150 |
| “I have no scruples, by your leave, | |
| On that account.” “But, sir, I have: | |
| I am a little superstitious, | |
| Like many of the crowd capricious: | |
| Forgive me, if it be a crime, | 155 |
| And I shall talk another time.” | |
| O that so black a sun should rise! | |
| Away the cruel creature flies, | |
| And leaves me panting for my life | |
| Aghast beneath the butcher’s knife. | 160 |
| At last, by special act of grace, | |
| The plaintiff meets him face to face, | |
| And bawls as loud as he could bellow: | |
| “Ha! whither now, thou vilest fellow? | |
| Sir, will you witness to my capture?” | 165 |
| I signified, I would with rapture; | |
| And then, to magnify the sport, | |
| He drags my prattler into court; | |
| And thus, amidst the noise and rabble, | |
| Apollo saved me in the squabble. | 170 |
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