The Satires of Juvenal, Persius, Sulpicia, and Lucilius
Strip Neptune of his silvery beard, and peel
Castor's leaf gold, where spread from head to heel?
Or what to those, who, with pernicious craft,
Mingle and set to sale the deadly draught;
Or those, who in a raw ox-hide are bound, 210
And, with an ill-starred ape, poor sufferer! drowned?
Yet these--how small a portion of the crimes,
That stain the records of those dreadful times,
And Gallicus, the city præfect, hears,
From light's first dawning, till it disappears! 215
The state of morals would you learn at Rome?
No farther seek than his judicial dome:
Give one short morning to the horrors there,
And then complain, then murmur, if you dare!
Say, whom do goitres on the Alps surprise? 220
In Meroë, whom the breast's enormous size?
Whom locks, in Germany, of golden hue,
And spiral curls, and eyes of sapphire blue?
None; for the prodigy, among them shared,
Becomes mere nature, and escapes regard. 225
When clouds of Thracian birds obscure the sky,
To arms! to arms! the desperate Pigmies cry:
But soon, defeated in the unequal fray,
Disordered flee; while, pouncing on their prey,
The victor cranes descend, and, clamoring, bear 230
The wriggling manikins aloft in air.
Here, could our climes to such a scene give birth,
We all should burst with agonies of mirth;
There, unsurprised, they view the frequent fight,
Nor smile at heroes scarce a foot in height. 235
"Shall then no ill the perjured head attend,
No punishment o'ertake this faithless friend?"
Suppose him seized, abandoned to your will,
What more would rage? to torture or to kill;
Yet still your loss, your injury would remain, 240
And draw no retribution from his pain.
"True,; but methinks the smallest drop of blood,
Squeezed from his mangled limbs, would do me good:
Revenge, THEY SAY, and I believe their words,
A pleasure sweeter far than life affords." 245
WHO SAY? the fools, whose passions, prone to ire,
At slightest causes, or at none take fire;
Whose boiling breasts, at every turn, o'erflow
With rancorous gall: Chrysippus SAID not so;
Nor Thales, to our frailties clement still; 250
Nor that old man, by sweet Hymettus' hill,
Who drank the poison with unruffled soul,
And dying, from his foes withheld the bowl.
Divine philosophy! by whose pure light
We first distinguish, then pursue the right, 255
Thy power the breast from every error frees,
And weeds out all its vices by degrees:--
Illumined by thy beam, revenge we find, }
The abject pleasure of an abject mind, }
And hence so dear to poor, weak, womankind. } 260
But why are those, Calvinus, thought to scape
Unpunished, whom, in every fearful shape,
Guilt still alarms, and conscience, ne'er asleep,
Wounds with incessant strokes, "not loud but deep,"
While the vexed mind, her own tormentor, plies 265
A scorpion scourge, unmarked by human eyes!
Trust me, no tortures which the poets feign,
Can match the fierce, the unutterable pain
He feels, who night and day, devoid of rest,
Carries his own accuser in his breast. 270
A Spartan once the Oracle besought
To solve a scruple which perplexed his thought,
And plainly tell him, if he might forswear
A purse, of old confided to his care.
Incensed, the priestess answered--"Waverer, no! 275
Nor shalt thou, for the doubt, unpunished go."
With that, he hastened to restore the trust;
But fear alone, not virtue, made him just:
Hence, he soon proved the Oracle divine,
And all the answer worthy of the shrine; 280
For plagues pursued his race without delay,
And swept them from the earth, like dust, away.
By such dire sufferings did the wretch atone
The crime of meditated fraud alone!
For, IN THE EYE OF HEAVEN, a wicked deed 285
Devised, is done: What, then, if we proceed?--
Perpetual fears the offender's peace destroy,
And rob the social hour of all its joy:
Feverish, and parched, he chews, with many a pause,
The tasteless food, that swells beneath his jaws: 290
Spits out the produce of the Albanian hill,
Mellowed by age;--you bring him mellower still,
And lo, such wrinkles on his brow appear,
As if you brought Falernian vinegar!
At night, should sleep his harassed limbs compose, 295
And steal him one short moment from his woes,
Then dreams invade; sudden, before his eyes
The violated fane and altar rise;
And (what disturbs him most) your injured shade,
In more than mortal majesty arrayed, 300
Frowns on the wretch, alarms his treacherous rest,
And wrings the dreadful secret from his breast.
These, these are they, who tremble and turn pale
At the first mutterings of the hollow gale! 305
Who sink with terror at the transient glare
Of meteors, glancing through the turbid air!
Oh, 'tis not chance, they cry; this hideous crash
Is not the war of winds; nor this dread flash
The encounter of dark clouds; but blasting fire,
Charged with the wrath of heaven's insulted sire! 310
That dreaded peal, innoxious, dies away;
Shuddering, they wait the next with more dismay,
As if the short reprieve were only sent
To add new horrors to their punishment.
Yet more; when the first symptoms of disease, 315
When feverish heats, their restless members seize,
They think the plague by wrath divine bestowed,
And feel, in every pang, the avenging God.
Racked at the thought, in hopeless grief they lie,
And dare not tempt the mercy of the sky: 320
For what can such expect! what victim slay,
That is not worthier far to live than they!
With what a rapid change of fancy roll
The varying passions of the guilty soul!--
Bold to offend, they scarce commit the offense, 325
Ere the mind labors with an innate sense
Of right and wrong;--not long, for nature still,
Incapable of change, and fixed in ill,
Recurs to her old habits:--never yet
Could sinner to his sin a period set. 330
When did the flush of modest blood inflame
The cheek, once hardened to the sense of shame?
Or when the offender, since the birth of time,
Retire, contented with a single crime?
And this false friend of ours shall still pursue 335
His dangerous course, till vengeance, doubly due,
O'ertake his guilt; then shalt thou see him cast
In chains, 'mid tortures to expire his last;
Or hurried off, to join the wretched train
Of exiled great ones in the Ægean main. 340
THIS, THOU SHALT SEE; and, while thy voice applauds
The dreadful justice of the offended gods,
Reform thy creed, and, with an humble mind,
Confess that Heaven is NEITHER DEAF NOR BLIND!
SATIRE XIV.
TO FUSCINUS.
Yes, there are faults, Fuscinus, that disgrace
The noblest qualities of birth and place;
Which, like infectious blood, transmitted, run,
In one eternal stream, from sire to son.
If, in destructive play, the senior waste 5
His joyous nights, the child, with kindred taste,
Repeats, in miniature, the darling vice,
Shakes the small box, and cogs the little dice.
Nor does that infant fairer hopes inspire,
Who, trained by the gray epicure, his sire, 10
Has learned to pickle mushrooms, and, like him,
To souse the becaficos, till they swim!--
For take him, thus to early luxury bred,
Ere twice four springs have blossomed o'er his head,
And let ten thousand teachers, hoar with age, 15
Inculcate temperance from the stoic page;
His wish will ever be, in state to dine,
And keep his kitchen's honor from decline!
Does Rutilus inspire a generous mind,
Prone to forgive, and to slight errors blind; 20
Instill the liberal thought, that slaves have powers,
Sense, feeling, all, as exquisite as ours;
Or fury? He, who hears the sounding thong
With far more pleasure than the Siren's song;
Who, the stern tyrant of his small domain, 25
The Polypheme of his domestic train,
Knows no delight, save when the torturer's hand
Stamps, for low theft, the agonizing brand.--
O, what but rage can fill that stripling's breast,
Who sees his savage sire then only blest, 30
When his stretched ears drink in the wretches' cries,
And racks and prisons fill his vengeful eyes!
And dare we hope, yon girl, from Larga sprung,
Will e'er prove virtuous; when her little tongue
Ne'er told so fast her mother's wanton train, 35
But that she stopped and breathed, and stopped again?
Even from her tender years, unnatural trust!
The child was privy to the matron's lust:--
Scarce ripe for man, with her own hand, she writes
The billets, which the ancient bawd indites, 40
Employs the self-same pimps, and looks, ere long,
To share the visits of the amorous throng!
So Nature prompts: drawn by her secret tie,
We view a parent's deeds with reverent eye;
With fatal haste, alas! the example take, 45
And love the sin, for the dear sinner's sake.--
One youth, perhaps, formed of superior clay,
And warmed, by Titan, with a purer ray,
May dare to slight proximity of blood,
And, in despite of nature, to be good: 50
One youth--the rest the beaten pathway tread,
And blindly follow where their fathers led.
O fatal guides! this reason should suffice
To win you from the slippery route of vice,
This powerful reason; lest your sons pursue 55
The guilty track, thus plainly marked by you!
For youth is facile, and its yielding will
Receives, with fatal ease, the imprint of ill:
Hence Catilines in every clime abound;
But where are Cato and his nephew found! 60
Swift from the roof where youth, Fuscinus, dwell,
Immodest sights, immodest sounds expel;
THE PLACE IS SACRED: Far, far hence, remove,
Ye venal votaries of illicit love!
Ye dangerous knaves, who pander to be fed, 65
And sell yourselves to infamy for bread!
REVERENCE TO CHILDREN, AS TO HEAVEN, IS DUE:
When you would, then, some darling sin pursue,
Think that your infant offspring eyes the deed;
And let the thought abate your guilty speed, 70
Back from the headlong steep your steps entice,
And check you, tottering on the verge of vice.
O yet reflect! for should he e'er provoke,
In riper age, the law's avenging stroke
(Since not alone in person and in face, 75
But even in morals, he will prove his race,
And, while example acts with fatal force,
Side, nay outstrip, you, in the vicious course),
Vexed, you will rave and storm; perhaps, prepare,