M/M: Marathus, Don't be a Golddigger: Tibullus, Carm. 1.9.1-2,5-6, 11-20, 29-39,53-54,67-72,77-81

Name: Tibullus [Albius Tibullus] Date:  55 - 19 BCE  Region:  [modern Italy] Citation:  Elegies 1.9.1-2,5-6,11-20,29-39,53-54,67-72,77-81

If you were only going to hurt me,

Why would you commit to a trusting relationship (foedera) with me, only to violate it?


O gods, go easy on him: it’s alright for someone so pretty to break your oaths—just once.


You see, my boyfriend (puer) is mesmerized by gifts; but someday, a god will take those gifts and they will vanish into thin air.


One day he’ll come back to me, penitent, when dust smudges his beauty, strong winds muss his pretty little hairdo, his face will be sunburnt, his hair will be sun-scorched, too; walking the long, lonely road will blister his pretty little feet.


Time and again I warned him, “stop being a gold-digger; these free gifts come with price tags that you’ll have to pay for soon enough. Someone smitten by wealth who breaks off a relationship will have a tough time with lady Love later."

Oh, how often I said this! And how it shames me to admit, I said it groveling at your feet, weeping. And oh, you swore to me that you would never betray my trust for any weight of gold, nor gems, nor any rich villa in the Campanian countryside, nor any Falernian vineyard. Oh, and I believed you then! You made me believe those words were pure as the stars’ twinkling light.

Oh, and you were crying too: and I, having never been deceived before, I didn’t know any better, I believed you! And I wiped away your tears from your wet cheeks. What would I do? Would I treat you differently if you were in love with a girl?


But you, Mister Sugar-Daddy, who try to corrupt my Marathus with gifts, your wife is going to mock you when she finds out about your schemes, or worse, when she starts to date him, too!


Aww, you think she’s wearing a new hairdo *for you*?

You think her makeup is done *for you*?

You think she’s wearing her pretty purple gown, her jewelry *for you*?

Nope, she’s not doing this for you, she’s looking pretty for her pretty little man, she’d offer him her whole world—and your house, too.


So Marathus, little Mister Gold-Digger, you thought you could break my trust? You crazily thought you’d steal my kisses, too? You’re gonna weep, when I have a new boyfriend (puer), and he’s my entire world, not you!

Quid mihi si fueras miseros laesurus amores,
     Foedera per divos, clam violanda, dabas?
...
Parcite, caelestes: aequum est inpune licere              
     Numina formosis laedere vestra semel.
...
Muneribus meus est captus puer, at deus illa
     In cunerem et liquidas munera vertat aquas.
Iam mihi persolvet poenas, pulvisque decorem
     Detrahet et ventis horrida facta coma;
Uretur facies, urentur sole capilli,               
     Deteret invalidos et via longa pedes.
Admonui quotiens 'auro ne pollue formam:
     Saepe solent auro multa subesse mala.
Divitiis captus siquis violavit amorem,
     Asperaque est illi difficilisque Venus.      
...
Haec ego dicebam: nunc me flevisse loquentem,
     Nunc pudet ad teneros procubuisse pedes. 
Tum mihi iurabas nullo te divitis auri
     Pondere, non gemmis, vendere velle fidem,
Non tibi si pretium Campania terra daretur,
     Non tibi si, Bacchi cura, Falernus ager.
Illis eriperes verbis mihi sidera caeli                
     Lucere et puras fulminis esse vias.
Quin etiam flebas: at non ego fallere doctus
     Tergebam umentes credulus usque genas.
Quid faciam, nisi et ipse fores in amore puellae?
     Sed precor exemplo sit levis illa tuo.              

O quotiens, verbis ne quisquam conscius esset,
     Ipse comes multa lumina nocte tuli!
Saepe insperanti venit tibi munere nostro
     Et latuit clausas post adoperta fores.
Tum miser interii, stulte confisus amari:               
     Nam poteram ad laqueos cautior esse tuos.
Quin etiam adtonita laudes tibi mente canebam,
     Et me nunc nostri Pieridumque pudet.
...
At te, qui puerum donis corrumpere es ausus,
     Rideat adsiduis uxor inulta dolis,
...
Tune putas illam pro te disponere crines
     Aut tenues denso pectere dente comas?
Ista haec persuadet facies, auroque lacertos
     Vinciat et Tyrio prodeat apta sinu?               
Non tibi, sed iuveni cuidam volt bella videri,
     Devoveat pro quo remque domumque tuam....
Blanditiasne meas aliis tu vendere es ausus?
     Tune aliis demens oscula ferre mea?
Tum flebis, cum me vinctum puer alter habebit
     Et geret in regno regna superba tuo.             
At tua tum me poena iuvet...

 Tibullus [Albius Tibullus, 55-19 BCE] was an Italian born equestrian Roman who lived during the tumultuous transition of Roman government from republic to monarchy.

His volumes of elegies provide insight into the lives and customs of Roman aristocrats. Like Catullus and Propertius, Tibullus used a pseudonym for the objects of his attention; many of his love poems were addressed to either “Delia” or “Marathus."

Girlfriend, be merciful to my boyfriend: Tibullus, Carm.1.8.27-28, 47-51, 67-78

Name: Tibullus [Albius Tibullus] Date:  55 - 19 BCE  Region:  [modern Italy] Citation:  Elegies 1.8.27-28,47-51,67-78

Tibullus offers love advice to his ex-lover Marathus and Marathus' new love interest Pholoe:



Pholoe, remember to not be so hard on the poor boy (puero),

Or Venus, the goddess of love herself, will smite you for your wretched deeds.

But remember to use your beauty while it’s in bloom; it does not last for long.

Stop torturing my boyfriend Marathus: what good in there in gloating over a defeated lover?

It’s totally ok to be mean to creepy old men, but go easy on this tender teen.



And you, Marathus, stop crying: her mind’s made up, her behavior won’t change, she’s just making your eyes all puffy and swollen from crying.



But I warn you, Pholoe, the gods hate the hard-hearted, and they won’t listen to your lip service.

Marathus used to play these games with his wretched partners (amantes), not knowing that the love god had a bounty on his head. He often used to laugh at his lover’s tears, and stand up his dates with made-up excuses. And now he hates the dating game, now he hates excuses and games.

Learn from his mistakes, don’t be as hard-hearted as him, or you’ll rue the day you acted this way!
Nec tu difficilis puero tamen esse memento:
     Persequitur poenis tristia facta Venus....
At tu, dum primi floret tibi temporis aetas,
     Utere: non tardo labitur illa pede.
Neu Marathum torque: puero quae gloria victo est?
     In veteres esto dura, puella, senes.    
Parce precor tenero:...
Desistas lacrimare, puer: non frangitur illa,
     Et tua iam fletu lumina fessa tument.
Oderunt, Pholoe, moneo, fastidia divi,
     Nec prodest sanctis tura dedisse focis.      
Hic Marathus quondam miseros ludebat amantes,
     Nescius ultorem post caput esse deum;
Saepe etiam lacrimas fertur risisse dolentis
     Et cupidum ficta detinuisse mora:
Nunc omnes odit fastus, nunc displicet illi            
     Quaecumque obposita est ianua dura sera.
At te poena manet, ni desinis esse superba.
     Quam cupies votis hunc revocare diem! 

Tibullus [Albius Tibullus, 55-19 BCE] was an Italian born equestrian Roman who lived during the tumultuous transition of Roman government from republic to monarchy.

His volumes of elegies provide insight into the lives and customs of Roman aristocrats. Like Catullus and Propertius, Tibullus used a pseudonym for the objects of his attention; many of his love poems were addressed to either “Delia” or “Marathus."

Challenging Gender Roles: The Women of Sparta, Propertius, Eleg. 3.14

Name:  Propertius Date:  50 – 15 BCE Region:   Assisium [modern Italy] Citation:    Elegies 3.14

Sparta, I admire your customs, but most of all,
I like the benefits of your ladies' gyms.
Because it's not a problem for a lady to exercise her naked body
in front of wrestling men.
She can reach out her arms to catch a flying ball
(whether she can catch it or not),
she can clang that basketball hoop when contact is made.
A woman can stand, sweaty, at the end of a racetrack
or bruise up her pretty little face in the boxing ring.
She can bind up her hands with her favorite pair of boxing gloves,
or twist her curves to send forth a discus,
or whiten her hair with dewy frost by chasing
her family's hunting dogs over the vast Taygetan lands.
She can train her horses to barrel race,
She can gird her snow-white midriff with a sword
or protect her pretty little face with an iron helmet,
the kind that the race of the Amazons would wear
when they would bathe--topless!--in the Thermodon River.
Just like Castor and Pollux would do,
the one about to be victorious in the ring,
the other about to be victorious on horseback,
and, arm-in-arm with her godly brothers,
Helen herself (it is said) fought by their side,
topless and unashamed.
And Spartan law forbids lovers to be kept apart.
They can remain side-by-side in public,
There's no curfew or forbidden dates for a girl,
She won't be "grounded" by a harsh father or husband.
You don't need to call ahead, you don't need anyone's permission:
You can date whomever you wish; there's no delay or wasted time.
Women don't wear Tyrian purple, they don't deceive you with what their clothes are hiding,
they don't doll up their hair with too much hairspray or perfume.
But here in Rome, my girl is surrounded by her adoring public
and I can't even reach her with a fingertip.
I can't catch a glimpse of her face,
I can't even ask her to spend a minute to speak with me,
a lover's path is blocked and blind.
So Rome, if you could change your ways
and imitate Sparta--you'd really help me out.



Multa tuae, Sparte, miramur iura palaestrae,
    sed mage virginei tot bona gymnasii,
quod non infamis exercet corpore ludos
    inter luctantis nuda puella viros,
cum pila velocis fallit per bracchia iactus,
    increpat et versi clavis adunca trochi,
pulverulentaque ad extremas stat femina metas,
    et patitur duro vulnera pancratio:
nunc ligat ad caestum gaudentia bracchia loris,
    missile nunc disci pondus in orbe rotat,
et modo Taygeti, crinis aspersa pruina,
    sectatur patrios per iuga longa canes:
gyrum pulsat equis, niveum latus ense revincit,
    virgineumque cavo protegit aere caput,
qualis Amazonidum nudatis bellica mammis
    Thermodontiacis turba lavatur aquis;
qualis et Eurotae Pollux et Castor harenis,
    hic victor pugnis, ille futurus equis,
inter quos Helene nudis capere arma papillis
    fertur nec fratres erubuisse deos.
lex igitur Spartana vetat secedere amantes,
    et licet in triviis ad latus esse suae,
nec timor aut ullast clausae tutela puellae,
    nec gravis austeri poena cavenda viri.
nullo praemisso de rebus tute loquaris
    ipse tuis: longae nulla repulsa morae.
nec Tyriae vestes errantia lumina fallunt,
    est neque odoratae cura molesta comae.
at nostra ingenti vadit circumdata turba,
    nec digitum angustast inseruisse via;
nec quae sit facies nec quae sint verba rogandi
    invenias: caecum versat amator iter.
quod si iura fores pugnasque imitata Laconum,     

carior hoc esses tu mihi, Roma, bono.

Propertius [Sextus Propertius; 50-15 BCE, modern Italy] was an Italian-born Roman lyric poet whose love poetry provides insight into the customs of Augustan Rome. Like Catullus and Tibullus, Propertius used a pseudonym for the object of his attention; many of his love poems were addressed to “Cynthia.”

Challenging Gender Roles: the Roman Emperor Hadrian, Epit. de. Caes. 14.1-12

Name:  Unknown Date: 4th century CE Region:   Unknown Citation:  Epitome of the Caesars 14.1-12

The Emperor Hadrian, the son of Aelius Adrianus, a member of an Italian family and the cousin of the Emperor Trajan, was born in a town Adria (in the Picenum region, a town that gives the Adriatic Sea its name). He ruled for twenty-two years.
Hadrian was called "the Little Greek" because he was very passionate about Greek literature and culture. He was quite enamoured with Athenian culture; not only their language, but also their other disciplines as well: he excelled in singing, playing the lyre, the art of medicine, music, geometry, painting, and even sculpting in marble and bronze! His artistic style resembled Polycletus' and Euphranoras'. He was also very refined, to such an extent that it seems that the human race could scarcely find one more elegant. He had a photographic memory, and could remember the names of locations, transactions, and soldiers, even those that were absent. He was incredibly energetic, travelling throughout the provinces on foot, surpassing them in his speedy gait. He renovated each town he visited, and increased their social classes.  For example, on the military legions, he recruited carpenters, stone masons, architects of all kinds, to build and amplify the city walls. He was diverse, complicated, and deep; born with an almost innate balance of virtue and vice; he cleverly covered his own pride with a rare sense of self-awareness; he presented himself as having mercy, and downplayed his own desire for fame that burned in his breast. He was very witty in both banter and insults, he could reply "tit for tat" whether in spoken word or verse, to the extent that you would think he had prepared them ahead of time. His wife Sabina was driven to suicide by servile taunts. She often boasted that, since she was the best judge of his character, she had seen to it that being pregnant by him would bring disaster to the human race. After enduring a subcutaneous disease for a long time, he could no longer put on a brave face and, being overcome by pain, he took it out on many senators by killing them.
Having obtained peace from many kings through gifts and tributes, he often boasted that he had accomplished more for the empire with leisure than others had done with warfare. With the exception of a handful of changes made by Constantine, Hadrian's organization of infrastructure, both imperial and public [not including military infrastructure], remain untouched even to this day. He lived sixty-two years, then, consumed by a utterly pitiful end, being overcome by pain in all of his limbs to the point that he begged his friends for death, lest in his pain he order those around him to be killed. 

Aelius Adrianus, stirpis Italae, Aelio Adriano, Traiani principis consobrino, Adriae orto genitus, quod oppidum agri Piceni etiam mari Adriatico nomen dedit, imperavit annis viginti duobus. Hic Graecis litteris impensius eruditus a plerisque Graeculus appellatus est. Atheniensium studia moresque hausit potitus non sermone tantum, sed et ceteris disciplinis, canendi psallendi medendique scientia, musicus geometra pictor fictorque ex aere vel marmore proxime Polycletus et Euphranoras.Proinde omnino ad ista et facetus, ut elegantius umquam raro quicquam humanae res expertae videantur. Memor supra quam cuiquam credibile est, locos negotia milites, absentes quoque, nominibus recensare. Immnesi laboris, quippe qui provincias omnes passibus circumierit agmen comitantium praevertens, cum oppida universa restitueret, auget ordinibus. Namque ad specimen legionum militarium fabros perpendiculatores architectos genusque cunctum exsturendorum moenium seu decorandorum in cohortes centuriaverat. Varius multiplex multiformis; ad vitia atque virtutes quasi arbiter genitus, impetum mentis quodam artificio regens, ingenium invidum triste lascivum et ad ostentationem sui insolens calide tegebat; continentiam facilitatem clementiam simulans contraque dissimulans ardorem gloriae, quo flagrabat. Acer nimis ad lacessendum pariter et respondendum seriis ioco maledictis; referre carmen carmini, dictum dictui, prorsus ut meditatum crederes adversus omnia. Huius uxor Sabina, dum prope servilibus iniuriis afficitur, ad mortem voluntaria compulsa. Quae palam iactabat se, quod immane ingenium probavisse,t elaborasse, ne ex eo ad humani generis perniciem gravidaretur. Hic morbo subcutaneo, quem diu placide pertulerat, victus, dolore ardens impatiensque plures e senatu exstinxit. A regibus multis pace occultius muneribus impetrata, iactabat palam plus se otio adeptum quam armis ceteros. Officia sane publica et palatina nec non militae in eam formam statuit, quae paucis per Constantinum immutatis hodie perseverat. Vixit annos sexaginta duos; dehinc miserabili exitu consumptus est, cruciatu membrorum fere omnium confectus, in tantum, ut crebro sese interficiendum ministrorum fidissimis precans offeret, ac ne in semetipsum saeviret, custodia carissimorum servaretur.



Epitome of Caesars: Sometimes falsely attributed to Sextus Aurelius Victor, the Epitome de Caesaribus is a concise history of later Roman history from the 4th century CE that covers the reigns of the emperors Augustus through Theodosius.

M/M: Nisus & Euryalus, Vergil, Aen.9.176-183

 

 

Nisus and Euryalus: No Day Shall Erase You From the Memory of Time

Name:  Vergil Date:  70 – 19 BCE Region:  Mantua [modern northern Italy] Citation:  Aeneid 9.176-223, 384-413, 416-418,420-449

On duty that night at the fortress' gates was Nisus, the valiant son of Hyrtacus, whom the huntress Ida had trained in hunting and sent off to accompany Aeneas.
Standing beside him was his companion Euryalus, a teenager who surpassed all Trojans in beauty. He was born too young to earn his armor at Troy; his first touch of adulthood was blossoming on his chin.
They shared one love; they fought side-by-side. Both stood on duty at the gate.

Nisus said “Do the gods inspire you to seek glory, or does your own desire drive you? For I need to fight—or do some big gesture—I’m not content to just sit around here. You know how cocky our Rutulian enemy is. Their watch fires are scattered, sputtering out, and their watchmen are sleeping or drunk. They're not vigilant at all.

“Look at how confident I am in this plan, and what I've devised based on these facts. Everyone (the Trojan leaders and menfolk alike) is clamoring for Aeneas to return. They're looking for volunteers to come fetch him, even offering a reward. I think I can find a way to him through that heap of enemies, and find a path to our ally Pallas’ city walls.”

Euryalus, inspired by a love of praise, spoke to his companion, “Nisus, do you shirk from letting me join you on the most important time of all? Will I send you off alone into such danger? Listen, I no longer have a father. My dad Opheletes fell by the Greeks in Troy's fateful struggle. But he raised me better than that! And Aeneas, the man I followed to our ultimate destiny; he raised me better than this, too! I didn't come all this way, doing all these adventures with you otherwise. What life is there for me, if I only had life, and not honor?”

Nisus responded: “No, it isn't right. I would never think that of you. But Jupiter, I pray to god (or whatever god it is), look on me with kindness, to bring me back to you,

while you're there, waiting to cheer me on from the sidelines. You see how the situation is. If some enemy or act of god should take me away from you, I want you to live on. You're too young to die. Let it be you who brings my body back from the battlefield and lays it to rest in my tomb. Or, if Fortune does not permit even that, honor me with an empty grave. I do not want to break your mother's heart. Of all the Trojan women, she alone left the safety of Acestes’ walls to follow you here.”

Euryalus said, “Stop being such a worrywart! My mind is made up. Come on, let’s go.”

Together, they woke up the next shift of watchmen. They leave their posts in the hands of competent replacements, and together with his companion Nisus, they head for the king's headquarters.

 

While on a secret mission, Nisus and Euryalus are detected by Rutulian scouts. They flee, but are separated from each other:
          Euryalus, overcome by brambles and fear, is trapped!

 

But Nisus already fled. By dumb luck, he escaped the enemy through the territory that will later be named “Alba.” He looks around and cannot find his companion. He calls, “Unlucky Euryalus, where are you? Did I leave you behind? Where can I follow you?”

He goes in circles through the forest, looking for traces of his friend in the underbrush. Then he hears hoofbeats; he hears the riders approach. Soon after he hears a shout and sees Euryalus surrounded by a band of Rutulians but vainly trying to defend himself.

What should Nisus do? What resources does he have to rescue the youth from his attackers? Should he jump into the fight, rushing to his own doom, to endure an “honorable” death?

Aiming his weapon, Nisus catches sight of the moon and voices this prayer:  “Divine daughter of Leto, glory of the stars and protector of this grove, help me in my task! If my father Hyrtacus’ offerings to you ever meant something, if my thanksgiving offerings from my hunting trips ever meant anything to you, if my offerings of incense or other holy offerings ever touched you, please, allow me to take on these men and send this spear through the air towards them!”

He finished praying, and hurled his spear with all his might. It flies through the night and arrives in Sulmo’s chest...

The Rutulians looks around, alert. Nisus aims another spear and sends it into their midst. It shoots through the air and pierces Tagus’ temples; his brains spurt from the wound.

The Rutulian leader Volcens roars in anger. He cannot see who threw the spear, so he takes out his anger on Euryalus. “You shall pay the penalty for both of these men…in blood!” Volcens said, attacking the Trojan youth with his sword.

Then, terrified, Nisus shouted from the distance, betraying his hiding-place, trying to stop his greatest nightmare from happening, “It was me! It was me! I did it! Stab me instead, oh Rutulians! This was my fault, it wasn’t him! I swear by the heavens, and the stars are my witness! The only thing he did wrong was love his cursed companion too much!”

So Nisus spoke, but a sword pierces his friend’s chest, crushing Euryalus’ delicate ribcage.

Euryalus swoons in death, and gore spreads across the lad’s pretty limbs.  His head flops forward, just like when a purple flower dies, cut by a tractor’s plow, or when a poppy droops when it is weighed down by heavy raindrops.

But Nisus rushes into the midst of the enemy, seeking vengeance upon Volcens. Volcens alone is his goal.

Although surrounded, Nisus puts up a good fight. His sword gleams in the starlight as he slashes against his foe, and it plunges into his enemy’s shrieking face, killing the man who stabs him in return.

Then, dying, Nisus threw himself atop his slain friend and succumbed to dreamless sleep.

Fortunate pair! If my epic means anything, no day shall ever erase you from history, as long as Aeneas’ Capitol still stands, as long as father Rome reigns supreme.

 

Nisus and Euryalus: No Day Shall Erase You From the Memory of Time

Nisus erat portae custos, acerrimus armis,
Hyrtacides, comitem Aeneae quem miserat Ida
venatrix iaculo celerem levibusque sagittis,
et iuxta comes Euryalus, quo pulchrior alter
non fuit Aeneadum Troiana neque induit arma,
ora puer prima signans intonsa iuventa.
His amor unus erat pariterque in bella ruebant;
tum quoque communi portam statione tenebant.
Nisus ait: “Dine hunc ardorem mentibus addunt,
Euryale, an sua cuique deus fit dira cupido?
Aut pugnam aut aliquid iamdudum invadere magnum
mens agitat mihi, nec placida contenta quiete est.

Cernis quae Rutulos habeat fiducia rerum:
lumina rara micant, somno vinoque soluti
procubuere, silent late loca. Percipe porro
quid dubitem et quae nunc animo sententia surgat.
Aenean acciri omnes, populusque patresque,
exposcunt, mittique viros qui certa reportent.
Si tibi quae posco promittunt (nam mihi facti
fama sat est), tumulo videor reperire sub illo    
posse viam ad muros et moenia Pallantea.”
Obstipuit magno laudum percussus amore
Euryalus, simul his ardentem adfatur amicum:
“Mene igitur socium summis adiungere rebus,
Nise, fugis? Solum te in tanta pericula mittam?
Non ita me genitor, bellis adsuetus Opheltes,
Argolicum terrorem inter Troiaeque labores
sublatum erudiit, nec tecum talia gessi
magnanimum Aenean et fata extrema secutus:
est hic, est animus lucis contemptor et istum 
qui vita bene credat emi, quo tendis, honorem.”
Nisus ad haec: “Equidem de te nil tale verebar,
nec fas; non ita me referat tibi magnus ovantem
Juppiter aut quicumque oculis haec aspicit aequis.
Sed si quis (quae multa vides discrimine tali)
si quis in adversum rapiat casusve deusve,
te superesse velim, tua vita dignior aetas.

Sit qui me raptum pugna pretiove redemptum
mandet humo, solita aut si qua id Fortuna vetabit,
absenti ferat inferias decoretque sepulcro.
Neu matri miserae tanti sim causa doloris,
quae te sola, puer, multis e matribus ausa
persequitur, magni nec moenia curat Acestae.”
Ille autem: “Causas nequiquam nectis inanis
nec mea iam mutata loco sententia cedit.
Acceleremus” ait, vigiles simul excitat. Illi
succedunt servantque vices; statione relicta
ipse comes Niso graditur regemque requirunt.

...

Euryalum tenebrae ramorum onerosaque praeda
impediunt, fallitque timor regione viarum.
Nisus abit; iamque imprudens evaserat hostis
atque locos qui post Albae de nomine dicti
Albani (tum rex stabula alta Latinus habebat),
ut stetit et frustra absentem respexit amicum:

“Euryale infelix, qua te regione reliqui?
Quave sequar?” Rursus perplexum iter omne revolvens
fallacis silvae simul et vestigia retro
observata legit dumisque silentibus errat.
Audit equos, audit strepitus et signa sequentum;
nec longum in medio tempus, cum clamor ad auris
pervenit ac videt Euryalum, quem iam manus omnis
fraude loci et noctis, subito turbante tumultu,
oppressum rapit et conantem plurima frustra.
Quid faciat? Qua vi iuvenem, quibus audeat armis
eripere? An sese medios moriturus in enses
inferat et pulchram properet per vulnera mortem?
Ocius adducto torquet hastile lacerto
suspiciens altam Lunam et sic voce precatur:
“Tu, dea, tu praesens nostro succurre labori,
astrorum decus et nemorum Latonia custos.
Si qua tuis umquam pro me pater Hyrtacus aris
dona tulit, si qua ipse meis venatibus auxi
suspendive tholo aut sacra ad fastigia fixi,
hunc sine me turbare globum et rege tela per auras.”

Dixerat et toto conixus corpore ferrum
conicit. Hasta volans noctis diverberat umbras
et venit aversi in tergum Sulmonis ibique
frangitur, ac fisso transit praecordia ligno...[1]
Diversi circumspiciunt. Hoc acrior idem
ecce aliud summa telum librabat ab aure.
Dum trepidant, it hasta Tago per tempus utrumque...[2]
Saevit atrox Volcens nec teli conspicit usquam
auctorem nec quo se ardens immittere possit.
“Tu tamen interea calido mihi sanguine poenas
persolves amborum” inquit; simul ense recluso
ibat in Euryalum. Tum vero exterritus, amens,
conclamat Nisus nec se celare tenebris
amplius aut tantum potuit perferre dolorem:
“Me, me, adsum qui feci, in me convertite ferrum,
o Rutuli! Mea fraus omnis, nihil iste nec ausus
nec potuit; caelum hoc et conscia sidera testor;

tantum infelicem nimium dilexit amicum.”  
Talia dicta dabat, sed viribus ensis adactus
transadigit costas et candida pectora rumpit.
Volvitur Euryalus leto, pulchrosque per artus
it cruor inque umeros cervix conlapsa recumbit:
purpureus veluti cum flos succisus aratro 
languescit moriens, lassove papavera collo
demisere caput pluvia cum forte gravantur.
At Nisus ruit in medios solumque per omnis
Volcentem petit, in solo Volcente moratur.
Quem circum glomerati hostes hinc comminus atque hinc 
proturbant. Instat non setius ac rotat ensem
fulmineum, donec Rutuli clamantis in ore
condidit adverso et moriens animam abstulit hosti.
Tum super exanimum sese proiecit amicum
confossus, placidaque ibi demum morte quievit.
Fortunati ambo! Si quid mea carmina possunt,
nulla dies umquam memori vos eximet aevo,
dum domus Aeneae Capitoli immobile saxum
accolet imperiumque pater Romanus habebit.

Vergil, also known as Virgil, [Publius Vergilius Maro; 70 – 19 BCE, modern Italy] was born in Mantua, Cisalpine Gaul, and lived during the tumultuous transition of Roman government from republic to monarchy. His writing talent earned him a place of honor among Maecenas’ fellow authors under Augustan rule. He was friends with numerous famous authors of the time period, including Horace and Asinius Pollio. His former slave Alexander was the most influential romantic partner in his life, and the poet memorialized his love for him under the pseudonym “Alexis” in Eclogue 2. His masterpiece, the Aeneid, tells the story of Aeneas’ migration from Troy to Italy; it was used for centuries as the pinnacle of Roman literature.

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[1] The graphic description of Sulmo’s wound will not be published here.

[2]The graphic description of Tagus’ wound will not be published here.