(For an introduction to Propertius, see this web site's section Propertius Books I - II.) Propertius III.1
Shade of Callimachus, sacred spirit of Coan Philetas, permit me, I pray, to enter into your grove. I am the first, a priest come down from the virgin spring, bringing Italian rites to the Grecian dance. Tell, in what cave together did you spin out your delicate song? or with what step did you enter? what fount did you drink of? Away, whoever detains Apollo among the wars! Polished with fine-grained stone the verse should come, through which my Fame exalts me high over earth, and from me the Muse is born, who triumphs with garlanded steeds, 10 and I ride myself in the chariot, with little Loves at my side, and a throng of writers follows after my wheels. Why do you vainly contend against me with loosened reins? There is no broad highway that leads to the Muse. Many will add your glories, Rome, to history’s pages, and sing that Bactra will be our empire’s bound, but this, a book for peace, our writings have carried down from the Sisters’ mountain, along an untried way. Bestow on your poet a tender chaplet, Pegasid maids: a rough garland will never suit my brow. 20 But whatever slanders I suffer in life from the grudging mob, Honor will recompense doubly after death. Long Age portrays all things as greater after death; a greater name spreads forth from the funeral train. For who would have known of the fortress rammed by a wooden horse, or Haemonia’s hero grappling with rivers in war, Simois, Ida’s stream, and Scamander, scion of Jove, or the wheels mauling Hector thrice through the plain? Deiphobus, Helenus, Polydamas, and (weakling in war) Paris, would now be strangers to their own land. 30 Of little account today would you be, Ilion, and you, Troy, twice captured by the Oetaean god; and Homer too, the renowned chronicler of your doom, has seen his saga thrive through the generations. Me also Rome shall praise among her later sons; I prophesy that day beyond my ashes: in no scorned tomb the stone will say my bones are laid, if the Lycian god looks kindly on my prayer.
Notes to Propertius III.1
The first three poems of Propertius’s third book constitute the most elaborate statement we have of the elegiac poets’ aesthetic program. For background, see Introduction part III. 2 grove The spirits of Callimachus and Philetas are conceived as the guardian deities of the sacred grove of Poetry. 3 priest The image is that of a priest in a sacred procession carrying pure water for ritual use. 5 cave Caves were often considered haunts of the Muses. 10 triumphs The imagery of lines 10-12 is drawn from the Roman triumphal procession. The little Loves and the throng of writers are parallel respectively to the triumphing general’s children, who rode with him in the triumphal chariot, and his soldiers, who marched behind it. 13-14 The image shifts: now Propertius is in a chariot race with the throng of writers. The point of line 14 is that the narrow, difficult path to the Muses is only wide enough for one chariot; thus his rivals could not pass him even if they caught up with him. 16 Bactra The chief city of Bactria, a region in what is now northern Afghanistan and was in Propertius’s time part of the Persian empire. There was much talk of a war with Persia in the early part of Augustus’s rule. Propertius is here obliquely prophesying that Rome will conquer part of the Persian empire in such a war. 18 Sisters’ Muses’. 19 Pegasid On Mt. Helicon, which was sacred to the Muses, there was a spring called Hippocrene, which was created when the winged horse Pegasus struck the ground with his hoof. Thus “Pegasid maids” means “Maids of Hippocrene”, i.e. the Muses. 20 rough garland Symbolizing epic poetry. 25 rammed Some of the ancients held that the Wooden Horse was really a battering-ram. 26 Achilles battled the rivers Simois and Scamander on the Trojan plain. The river-god Scamander, according to Homer, was the son of Zeus (Jove). 28 Achilles dragged Hector’s body behind his chariot three times daily around Patroclus’s tomb. 29-30 These are all Trojans mentioned by Homer. Paris, the cause of the war, was in fact a good fighter, but he preferred to stay out of battle whenever possible (see Iliad VI.520ff). 31-32 In Homer “Ilion” and “Troy” are used interchangeably. It is not clear if the terms are also synonymous here. 32 Oetaean When Hercules died on Mt. Oeta, he became a god. Hercules conquered Troy once himself; later, the Greeks won the Trojan War after Philoctetes killed Paris with Hercules’ bow, it having been prophesied that Troy would fall only if once again attacked with Hercules’ weapons.
Propertius III.2
But now we must return to our usual course of song, so our music may give our girl delight once more. Orpheus held wild beasts at bay (so goes the tale) and checked the churning streams with his Thracian lyre; they say Cithaeron’s boulders, drawn by a songster’s skill to Thebes, arranged themselves into a wall; and Galatea below wild Aetna, Polyphemus, veered her sea-drenched chariot towards your songs: what wonder then, Apollo and Bacchus favoring us, that throngs of girls pay homage to my words? 10 No mansion is mine, buttressed with pillars of Taenaran stone, no ivory-panelled ceilings patterned in gold; I own no orchards that vie with Phaeacia’s fruitful groves, no elaborate grottoes cooled by the Marcian flow; but the Muses befriend me, my songs are cherished by those who know them, and Calliopea wearies herself in my dances. Happy the girl whose praises resound in my slim book! Each song will be your beauty’s monument: for neither the proud expense of the Pyramids, heaped to the stars, nor the mansion of Elean Jove, that counterfeits heaven, 20 nor the vast prosperity of Mausolus’s sepulcher, is free from the final stipulation of death. Fire or driving rain will erode their majesty or their own weight crush them under the pounding years; but time will never fade the fame that genius wins: genius abides, a glory beyond death.
Notes to Propertius III.2 Virtually a continuation of the previous poem. Lines 19-26 are very similar in both thought and imagery to Shakespeare’s Sonnet 55 (“Not marble, nor the gilded monuments . . .”). 2-7 Three mythological examples of the power of music: Orpheus enchanted beasts and rivers; the stones of Mt. Cithaeron in Greece, magically animated by Amphion’s music, assembled themselves into the walls of the city of Thebes; and the Cyclops Polyphemus won the love of the sea-nymph Galatea by his songs. 11-14 A description of a typical wealthy Roman estate. Taenaron, in Greece, was a source of fine marble. It was also the site of a mythical entrance to Hades, and thus the name often has funereal overtones. Artificial caves, cooled with water supplied by the great Marcian aqueduct, were common amenities of rich estates. 19-21 An abbreviated catalog of the wonders of the world. The temple of Zeus at Olympia in Elis was famous for its gold and ivory statue of the god. Mausolus was king of Caria in Asia Minor; when he died, his widow built him a tomb of extraordinary opulence.
Propertius III.3
I dreamed I lay at ease in Helicon’s soft shade, where flows the fount struck by Bellerophon’s steed, and I thought I had the power, Alba, to blare forth the saga of your kings (how huge a task!), and I had moved my tender lips to that great spring whence father Ennius slaked his thirst of old, when he sang of the Curian brothers, and the Horatian spears, and the spoils of kings borne on Aemilius’s barge, Fabius’s conquering delays, the fatal fight at Cannae, the gods that heeded pious prayers, 10 and the Lares that repulsed Hannibal from Rome, and Jupiter rescued by a goose’s call, when Phoebus spied me from a Castalian tree, by a cave, and leaning against his golden lyre, he said: “What business have you, fool, with such a stream? Or who told you to dare attempt heroic song? Not here must your renown, Propertius, be sought: your little wheels should press a tender meadow, so lonely girls, awaiting their lovers, may read your book, and often toss it down upon the stool. 20 Why have your writings veered from their appointed course? Your talent’s skiff must not be overloaded. Let one oar skim the water, the other skim the sand, for safety: the open sea is dangerous.” He spoke, and with his ivory plectrum pointed out where a new path lay along the mossy ground. Here was a green cave, encrusted with inset stones, and tambourines were hung in the carved-out rock, and the Muse’s mystic tokens, and old Silenus’s clay statue, and your reed pipes, Arcadian Pan, 30 and the birds of lady Venus, my own dear pets, the doves, dipped their crimson beaks in the Gorgon’s pool, and about the cave were girls, assigned nine provinces, each plying her tender hands at her own gifts: one made an ivied thyrsus, another set songs to the lyre, and a third was busy weaving chains of roses. One of these goddesses then touched me with her hand (Calliope, I think, from her lovely face): “You will always be content to be borne on snowy swans; no thundering charger will lead you into war; 40 nor be it yours to sound the war-call on the bellowing horn, nor stain Aonia’s grove with Mars, nor camps where, under Marius’s eagles, troops stood poised for battle, and Rome destroyed the Teuton’s power, nor barbarous Rhine, steeped in Suevian blood, who bore mangled corpses on his lamenting wave; but sing of of festive lovers at doorways not their own, and the drunken clues of headlong flight in the dark, so those who wish to trick stern husbands with their skill may learn from you to charm out cloistered girls.” 50 Thus spoke the Muse, and drawing water from the fount she wet my lips with the Philetean stream.
Notes to Propertius III.3 Yet another programmatic poem. In constructing this piece, Propertius is following an ancient tradition, according to which poets were called to their vocation by the gods in a dream or vision. Such experiences were reported by Hesiod, Ennius, and Propertius’s model Callimachus, and Ovid makes typically flippant use of the convention in O.III.1. The wealth of allusion and symbolism in this poem makes it particularly difficult for the modern reader to follow the action presented in it. Accordingly, a synopsis may be helpful: “I dreamed that I was on Mt. Helicon, and that I had the talent to compose epic poetry. I was about to drink from the spring of heroic inspiration, which had enabled Ennius to sing the saga of early Rome, when Apollo, who was sitting in a nearby tree, stopped me, saying, ’Your talent is not suited to epic, Propertius; you must rather compose love poetry.’ He showed me an untrodden path, and following it I came to a cave decorated with the sacred emblems of the deities of poetry. In this cave I found the spring of love poetry; and the nine Muses appeared to me there. One of them, Calliope, told me, ‘Do not sing of Rome’s wars against barbarians; write instead of the tricks and struggles of lovers.’ And she wet my lips with the waters of the spring which had inspired Philetas.” 2 Bellerphon’s steed Pegasus; see P.III.1.19n. 7-12 A catalog of subjects from Roman history treated by Ennius. The Curiatii (“Curian Brothers”) and the Horatii were two sets of triplets who fought each other in a famous episode in Rome’s early wars. There were several Roman generals named Aemilius who conquered kings; it is not certain which one is being referred to here. Fabius was a Roman general who successfully employed delaying tactics against Hannibal. Cannae was a town in Italy where Hannibal defeated the Romans in 216 b.c; but Rome eventually won the war. Line 11 may simply mean, “It was the gods’ will that Rome should defeat Hannibal,” or it may have reference to some more specific story which has not survived to our time. Another famous tale from Rome’s early history relates how the Gauls besieged Rome and nearly succeeded in conquering the city by a nocturnal sneak-attack on the Capitoline hill, the site of Jupiter’s temple. But the attack was foiled when Juno’s sacred geese, who were kept on the hill, alarmed the garrison by their cackling. 13 Castalian Castalia was a spring on Mt. Parnassus, another Greek mountain sacred to Apollo and the Muses. Thus the “Castalian tree” implies a typical Grove of the Muses. The geography is confused, since in line 1 we are on Mt. Helicon and here we appear to be some twenty-five miles away on Mt. Parnassus; but, of course, this is a dream. 19-20 This couplet is unclear. Perhaps the image is that of a girl who, impatiently waiting for her lover, keeps picking up a book of love poetry and, unable to concentrate, nervously throwing it down on a nearby stool. 23 That is, keep close to shore. 27-30 The cave is green presumably because its mouth is covered with moss and set around with vegetation. The “inset stones” suggest that this cave is an artificial grotto (cf. P.III.2.11-14n). “Tambourines” recall the orgiastic worship of Dionysus and oriental goddess cults. The “mystic tokens” are unspecified ritual objects used in the worship of the Muses. Silenus and Pan are rustic deities associated with pastoral poetry. 31-32 The doves, an emblem of Venus, mark this grotto as a place of love poetry. The pool is Hippocrene (we are back on Helicon again; cf. above on line 13), which has now been transformed into a source of erotic, rather than epic, poetry. The winged horse Pegasus, who created the spring, was born from the freshly shed blood of the Gorgon Medusa; hence, in an allusion far-fetched even for Propertius, Hippocrene is here called “the Gorgon’s pool.” 33 The girls are the Muses, each of whom was responsible for a particular area (“province”) of the arts. 35-36 The thyrsus was a ritual object composed of a giant fennel- stalk tipped with ivy, used in the worship of Bacchus. Note that this couplet includes symbols of the three gods, and hence of the three activities, most suited to Propertius’s type of poetry: the thyrsus (Bacchus/wine), the lyre (Apollo/song), and the rose (Venus/love). 38 Propertius evidently believed that the name “Calliope” is derived from the Greek phrase meaning “beautiful face.” (In fact, it is derived from a similar Greek phrase meaning “beautiful voice.”) 39 swans Another symbol of Venus. 42 Aonia’s Aonia was the region of Greece where Mt. Helicon was located; thus “Aonia’s” = “the Muses’.” with Mars That is, “with the bloodshed of war.” 43 Marius’s eagle Marius was a great Roman general of the 2nd/1st century b.c who established the eagle as the sole official legionary standard. 44 Teutons A German tribe defeated by Marius. 45-46 The Suevians were a German tribe who crossed the Rhine into Roman territory in 29 b.c and were driven back. 47-48 This couplet is somewhat obscure. The image seems to be that of a rather tipsy young man going from a party to the house of a girl who is being kept by another man and trying to lure her out; in the morning, the faded garlands and burnt-out torches by her door are traces of the previous night’s activities. Some commentators believe “flight” indicates that the lover had to retreat in disappointment; others believe it means that he succeeded in getting the girl to run away with him. 52 Philetian A clear indication that this fountain is the spring of elegiac poetry and is to be contrasted with Ennius’s spring of epic poetry (above, lines 1ff.).
Propertius III.16
The middle of night, and a letter has come from my mistress to me, commanding my presence at Tibur without delay, where the gleaming hills display their double towers on high, and Anio’s Naiad dives to the speading pools. What should I do? Entrust myself to the shrouding night, dreading that lawless hands may attack my body? Yet if I disobey her orders out of fear, her tears will hurt me more than a night assault. Once, for a single crime, she spurned me one whole year: she does not govern me with a gentle hand. 10 Yet no one would hurt a lover: lovers are sacrosanct, though they travel down the middle of Sciron’s road. Whoever is in love could stroll on Scythia’s shores, and no one would be so uncouth as to do him harm. The moon is his guide, the stars point out the ruts in his path, and Love himself waves his torch in the lead, and mad dogs turn their fierce and gaping jaws away: for the tribe of lovers, all roads are always safe. For who would be bestial enough to shed the weakling blood of a lover? Venus herself befriends love scorned. 20 Yet even if these risks should lead to certain death, such an end as this would be worth paying for. She will bring me scented oils, and honor my sepulcher with garlands, and faithfully watch over my grave. Great gods, may she not lay my bones in some thronged place, where the crowd’s continual traffic makes its way! That is how lovers’ tombs are derided after death. May I be sheltered by some secluded grove, or buried under a nameless patch of mounded sand: I want no fame among the passing crowd. 30
Notes to Propertius III.16 In the middle of the night, Cynthia commands Propertius to join her immediately in the resort town of Tibur (the modern Tivoli). 3 “Gleaming” probably refers to buildings on the hilltops. It is not certain what Propertius means by the “double towers.” 4 The famous cataracts are personified as the Anio’s river-nymph (“Naiad”) diving from the hilltop. 5-6 Evidently crime in the streets was as great a problem in ancient Rome as in modern America. 12 Sciron was a mythical villain who murdered travellers by throwing them over a cliff. 13 Scythia was the ancient name for the territory north of the Black and Caspian seas. It is used here as an example of a wild, uncivilized land. (This couplet must have been popular in antiquity; it has been found written on a wall in Pompeii.) 20 The poet seems to be thinking of the stereotyped “excluded lover,” waiting in the street outside his mistress’s barred door. Such a lover, he claims, need not fear any thugs who might wander by, because he is under the protection of Venus. 23 Scented oils were poured on the pyre as part of the Roman funeral ritual. 26 Roman tombs were often placed by the roadside, a practice which Propertius here hopes will not be followed in his own case. 27 This line is not really at variance with the many passages in which Propertius envisions his grave being honored after death. In those passages, it is always Cynthia and the select few for whom love and love-poetry are the highest values who will honor his memory; but the ignorant mob which would pass by a tomb on the roadside could only be expected to jeer at a sensitive poet who died for love.
Propertius III.24
That trust is empty, woman, you place in your beauty’s power, long since grown overproud by my admiring. Such honors once were paid you, Cynthia, by our love: I feel ashamed my verse exalted you. I culled so many beauties and blent them for your praise so love could believe you were what you were not. So often I compared your hue to rosy dawn, when your face gleamed with whiteness you applied. But what my family’s friends could never free me from, nor Thessaly’s witches purge with a whole vast sea, 10 I have myself, all uncompelled by fire or blade, though wrecked -- I will confess -- on waves of passion. I was possessed, and fired in Venus’s crucible; a captive, my hands tied behind my back. Now see! my ship, adorned with wreaths, has touched the shore, I have passed the Syrtes, my anchor has been cast! Now, tired by the huge sea-swell, at last I gain my senses; my wounds are healed; I am returned to health. O Goddess of Good Sense, receive your worshipper, since Jove has turned a deaf ear to my prayers. 20
Notes to Propertius III.24 This poem and the next mark the end of the affair with Cynthia. The first of the pair includes obvious echoes of P.I.1., for example, compare P.III.24.9 to P.I.1.25, P.III.24.10 to P.I.1.19-24, P.III.24.11 to P.I.1.27. 8 applied I.e., cosmetics. 9-12 The text and translation of these lines are very uncertain. I have followed the interpretation suggested by Butler and Barber. To paraphrase: “The madness which neither the good advice of friends nor the magic of witches could heal, I myself have cured by willpower, although I was totally lost to love.” This passage is clearly an intentional echo of P.I.1.19-28. 15 wreaths It was a Roman custom to hang garlands on ships when they reached port, in token of thanksgiving to the gods for a safe voyage. 16 Syrtes Dangerous sandbanks off the coast of North Africa; here, as often, used as a symbol of the perils of the sea. 19 There actually was a temple of Good Sense at Rome. The Romans, even more than the Greeks, tended to personify abstract concepts as deities.
Propertius III.25
My name would bring a laugh among the banquet guests, and common gossip took me as its theme. I was able to serve you faithfully for five whole years: you will often regret that faith, with bitten nail. I am not moved by tears: that trick trapped me before; you always wept, Cynthia, by design; and I will weep at leaving, but rage conquers my tears: you will not let the yoked team pull as one. Farewell, the threshold moved to tears by my complaints, the door my hands, though angry, never broke! 10 But, as the years glide by, may harsh age weigh you down, and wrinkles come to doom your loveliness, and may you strive to pluck white hairs out by their roots, ah! when your mirror reproaches you with wrinkles. May you, shut out in turn, bear others’ scornful pride, regretting what you did, now grown so old. For you my page has chanted out this fatal curse: now learn to fear your beauty’s destiny.
Notes to Propertius III.25 A companion-piece to the preceding, marking the end of the affair. The motif “your old age will be my revenge” was common in ancient poetry; see also in this anthology T.I.6.77-86. 4 nail Roman authors several times mention nail-biting as a symptom of worry or concentration. 8 That is, “You will not allow us to live in harmony.” This line sounds as if it may refer to a proverbial saying.
Propertius IV.7
Ghosts exist. Death does not end everything: some pale shade escapes the vanquished pyre; for Cynthia, so it seemed, was bending over my pillow (but they buried her yesterday by the brawling road), as I lay half asleep after love’s funeral, mourning the chill kingdom my bed had become. Her hair was still arranged as when she lay on the pyre, those same dead eyes, the shroud hung scorched on her thigh; the flame had eaten the sea green ring away from her finger, and Lethe’s water dribbled from her lips. 10 She had the voice and spirit of breathing flesh, but now she angrily rattled her skeletal hands and cried: “Faithless (yet not to be hoped any better by any girl), can sleep already hold you in its power? Can you already forget the thefts in suspicious Subura, and the window-sill worn down by my nightly schemes? How many times I hung by a rope let through that window, descending hand over hand to your embrace! Often our love was joined in the streets, and breast to breast we made the ground grow warm beneath our cloaks. 20 But ah! those oaths we shared alone, those lying words now swept away on winds that never heard them! And no one called my name when my eyes finally dimmed: had you cried out, I would have gained one day. No guard was set over me to rattle a split reed, and a broken roof tile cut my head where it lay. And who saw you bowed down with grief at my last rites? or wetting a black toga with your warm tears? If you could not trouble to go beyond the gate, at least you could have ordered my bier move more slowly. 30 Why were you not there, praying for winds for the fire? Why, grudger, were my flames not scented with nard? Was it too much to ask, to throw cheap hyacinths on my body, and shatter a jug to honor my smoldering ashes? Burn Lygdamus -- heat metal white hot for that slave -- I knew, when I drank the wine his poisons stained -- or Nomas -- let that skilled hag hide her secret phials -- the blazing shard will damn her guilty hands. And that woman who used to parade her cheap charms for all comers, now trails a gilded robe along the ground, 40 and spitefully weighs out a heavier load of wool, if any chattering slave recalls my beauty. Because my Petale brought garlands to my tomb, the poor old woman drags a dirty clog, and Lalage is beaten, hung by her twisted hair, for daring to ask a favor in my name. And, while you watched, she melted down my golden portrait, to gain a dowry from my blazing pyre. And yet I will not haunt you, Propertius, though you deserve it: my reign was long over your poetry. 50 I swear by the song of the Fates, that no one can unspin, and so may the triple hound yelp softly at me, that I kept faith. If I lie, I pray that serpents hiss on my grave and make their lairs above my bones. For there are two destinations beyond the gloomy stream, and the crowd is ferried across by different ways. One channel bears defiled Clytaemestra, carries the Cretan’s wooden monster, the false cow; but see! a skiff adorned with wreaths takes others away, where roses nod in Elysium’s happy breeze, 60 where the tuneful lyre is heard, and Cybele’s rounded bronze, and Lydian citherns play to the turbaned choirs. Andromeda and Hypermestre, unstained wives, describe the famous perils of their past: the one laments her arms bruised by a mother’s chains, and her guiltless hands bound to the chill crag; and Hypermestre tells her sisters’ horrid deed, herself not cruel enough for such a crime. Thus with the tears of death we consecrate life’s loves, but I say nothing of all your faithless sins. 70 But now here are my orders, if you can care at all, if Chloris’s potion leaves you any will. Care for my nurse, Parthenie, in her trembling age: she never held her palm out when she could have; and my own favorite, Latris, named after her job, -- she must not hold the mirror for some new mistress. But as for all the verse you wrote to honor me, burn it: leave off clinging to my praise. Clear my tomb of the ivy, that with its curling spray and swelling cluster binds my fragile bones, 80 where Anio, rich in orchards, spreads through fruitful fields, and ivory never fades, by Hercules’ power. And on my grave indite this verse, befitting me, but brief, for the traveler speeding from Rome to read: HERE LIES GOLDEN CYNTHIA IN TIBUR’S SOIL: ANIO, YOUR BANKS HAVE GAINED STILL MORE RENOWN. But do not spurn the dreams sent through the blessed gates: when those dreams come, they must be trusted in. The night bears us at random, night frees the guarded shades; even Hell’s dog roams from the open door. 90 By day the law compels us back to Lethe’s pools. We cross the stream; the oarsman checks his freight. Others can have you now. Soon you’ll be mine alone: you’ll be with me, I’ll hug you bone to bone.” And after she had finished this bitter complaint to me, her shadow disappeared from my embrace.
Notes to Propertius IV.7 Cynthia is dead. Shortly after the funeral, her ghost appears to Propertius in a dream. She reproaches him for forgetting her so soon and complains that her funeral was shabbily arranged. She accuses the slaves Lygdamus and Nomas of having poisoned her and states that her former maidservants are being mistreated by a concubine who has replaced her in Propertius’s affections. She then describes her experiences in the underworld, gives a final charge to Propertius to care for her favorite slaves and her grave, and disappears. This remarkable poem includes a number of apparent inconsistencies. In lines 29-34, for instance, Cynthia complains that Propertius did not attend her funeral, but line 5 implies that he had in fact been there. Cynthia charges that Propertius has a new mistress, but Propertius specifically states in line 6 that he is sleeping alone, and the language used there implies that this is now his normal situation. Cynthia’s words in lines 51-54 can hardly mean anything but “Never in the course of our relationship did I sleep with any man other than you,” but we know from many passages in Propertius -- including P.IV.8, the very next poem -- that this was not so. Such inconsistencies, of course, are not at all out of place in a dream, and it is clear that in this poem -- unlike P.III.3, which presents an almost purely “artificial” dream -- Propertius is consciously trying to evoke the paradoxical atmosphere of an actual dream. This poem is modelled on the scene at the beginning of Iliad XXIII, where Patroclus’s ghost visits Achilles. 4 road See P.III.16 26n. 8 eyes A grimly realistic detail: it was customary to open the eyes of the corpse when it had been placed on the pyre for burning. 15-18 Subura was a neighborhood in Rome which included a noted red-light district. Evidently Cynthia had at one time been kept there by another man and had had to see Propertius on the sly. 19-20 These lines should probably be taken as referring to actual events rather than as being merely part of the dream-fantasy. Such activities may seem startling to the modern reader, but it should be remembered that, in the absence of modern methods of transportation, Propertius could not have taken Cynthia very far away in the brief time at their disposal during these meetings, and that, in the absence of modern methods of lighting, the streets of Rome must have been very dark at night. The escapades described in these lines, while perhaps unusual, were by no means as extraordinary as they would be in a modern context. 23-24 It was a Roman custom for those gathered around the death bed to cry out the name of the deceased at the moment of death; Cynthia claims that this duty also was neglected by Propertius. If he had called her name, she says, it would have brought her back from death’s door, at least temporarily. (But some scholars offer other interpretations of these lines.) 25-26 Most commentators believe that the “split reed” was a magic rattle used to frighten evil spirits away from the corpse. This is not unlikely, although there is no clear evidence for such a custom among the Romans. The “broken tile” has defied all attempts at explanation; perhaps its meaning would be clear if we knew more about Roman funeral customs. 29 It is uncertain whether the gate of the house or of the city is meant. 30 That Cynthia’s body was carried along in undignified haste is another indication of careless funeral arrangements. 34 In a Roman funeral, the ashes of the body were ritually doused with wine as they smoldered on the pyre. Cynthia complains that this pious act was omitted, or at least not performed by Propertius himself. 35-38 These accusations of poisoning are not to be taken seriously. Cynthia is furious at being dead and, characteristically, insists that somebody must be to blame. Lygdamus and Nomas are slaves of Propertius; perhaps he had lent or given them to Cynthia when she was alive. The “metal” and “sherd” refer to forms of torture by fire: Roman slaves were routinely tortured in investigations. 39 she Propertius’s alleged new mistress. We find out in line 72 that her name is Chloris. Petale and Lalage, whom Chloris is described as abusing in the following lines, are Cynthia’s former personal slaves. They now seem to be part of Propertius’s household. 41 Female slaves were kept busy spinning wool into yarn. A slave might be given extra wool to spin as a punishment. 44 clog Slaves were sometimes punished by being chained to a large block of wood, which they would have to trail after them along the ground. 46 Chloris must have become angry hearing Lalage beg her master Propertius for a favor “in the name of your dear, departed Cynthia.” 47-48 The “portrait” could have been a gold medallion or a gold-set ring or cameo with Cynthia’s picture on it. Line 48 is meant sarcastically: “She might as well have melted it right on my funeral pyre. And what does she want the gold for? She has no use for a dowry, since she is a whore.” 52 hound Cerberus 55-70 The idea that there are two separate parts of the underworld, a gloomy hell for most people, where the very wicked received special punishments, and a paradise for those greatly distinguished by their virtue, is a very old Greco-Roman tradition. Likewise, the description of the many famous women of the past who may be seen in the underworld is a well-established theme in ancient literature. Here Propertius combines these two ideas to envision an underworld comprised of a hell for famous bad women and a paradise for famous good ones. 57-58 These lines are as awkwardly phrased in the original as they are in this translation. The text is certainly corrupt, but no satisfactory correction has been suggested. 58 Cretan’s Pasiphae’s. 62 turbaned The Latin term is mitra, a sort of headband worn by Asiatics. 65 mother’s That is, brought on by her mother’s pride. For the story, see Glossary. 72 potion Cynthia believes that Chloris has captured Propertius by a love-philtre. 74 That is, Parthenie never demanded bribes and tips from Propertius in return for helping him conduct his affair with Cynthia. 75 “Latris” is Greek for “personal maid.” 79-80 Since ivy is sacred to Bacchus and is therefore a symbol of poetry, this couplet is a repetition in symbolic form of the instructions in the previous couplet that Propertius should destroy his poems about Cynthia. 82 It was believed that the air of Tibur had some special quality which preserved ivory from yellowing with age. Hercules was Tibur’s patron god. 85-86 The Anio was famed for its pure water and the lovely, fertile countryside it flowed through, for its spectactular waterfalls at the stylish resort town of Tibur (modern Tivoli), and for its fine temples to Hercules and other gods. Now it will be famous also as Cynthia’s final resting place. 87 blessed gates In Greek and Roman mythology, dreams issued from the underworld through one of two gates: false dreams came through the Gate of Ivory, while true dreams came through the Gate of Horn (the “blessed gate” referred to here). 89-90 Taken together, the door, the watch-dog, the night, and the epithet “guarded” all recall the stereotyped “excluded lover.” But death has reversed the image. At night, the door opens, the watchdog roams away, and the closely guarded girl can come forth. Yet all this is now worthless to the lover. 90 dog Cerberus, who as watch-dog of the underworld was chained to its portal when it was locked.
Propertius IV.8
Now learn what shocked the watery Esquiline last night and panicked the whole New Gardens neighborhood. Lanuvium is the ancient serpent’s sacred charge: such wondrous sights are worth a sojourn there, where the ritual path, plunging into the blind abyss, conveys (O maiden, shun such roads as these!) food to the famished snake, when he asks his annual due and twists his hissing coils from the depths of the earth. The girls sent down for such a rite turn pale with fear, rashly trusting their hands to the viper’s jaws. 10 He eagerly consumes the meal the virgin brings, while the basket trembles in her shivering arms. If they prove chaste, the girls return to their parents’ embrace, and the farmers cry, “The harvest will be good!” Hither my Cynthia was borne by short-maned ponies, for Juno, she said, but really to worship Venus. Tell us, Appian Way, what a triumphal parade you saw her make, galloping over your stones. 18 And what a sight she was, leaning over the reins 21 and boldly driving the team straight through the ruts! For I will not mention the silken gig of that smooth-skinned fop and the dainty collars on his Molossian hounds; but soon he will gamble his life in return for a swordsman’s fodder, when a beard (oh, dear!) takes over those gleaming cheeks. Because she has so often abused our passion thus, I decided to pitch my camp in another bed. Near Aventine Diana a girl named Phyllis dwells, prim when sober, but when she drinks, watch out! 30 And in Tarpeia’s Woods lives Teia: a pretty girl, but she takes on all comers when she’s drunk. These two I invited, to soothe my lonely night and stir new lust by a secret escapade. We all three shared one little couch on a private lawn. You ask how we lay? I was between the two. Lygdamus filled our cups, the settings were summer glass, the wine was Greek, a luscious Lesbian vintage. An Egyptian piped, and Phyllis rattled her castanets with artless grace as we pelted her with roses, 40 and a dwarf, the famous Big Boy, was there to dance for us, bobbing his stubby arms to the hollow flute. But the flames kept flickering out in the lamps, though they were full, and the table collapsed flat onto the floor; and when I threw the dice, in hopes of a lucky Venus, the sinister Dog was all I ever rolled. Their songs fell on deaf ears, I was blind to their naked breasts: I stood despairing at Lanuvium’s gates. Just then the house-door creaked, turning on its hinges, and muffled voices were heard in the entry-way. 50 And suddenly Cynthia threw open the courtyard gates, her hair undone, but beautiful in her fury. The goblet slipped from my numb fingers and fell to the ground, and, flushed with wine as I was, my face went pale. Her eyes flashed fire, she raged as only a woman can: a conquered town could be no grimmer sight. She scratched at Phyllis’s face with her nails, in a frenzy of wrath; in terror Teia shrieked, “Help, neighbors! Fire!” The local citizenry rushed out with torches high, and wild shouts echoed up and down the street. 60 The girls, their hair all torn, their dresses ripped to shreds, fled to the first wine-shop in the dim-lit road. Cynthia came triumphant home, rejoiced in her spoils, and gave me a bruising slap with the back of her hand, and left a scar on my neck, and bit me till she drew blood, and struck at my eyes most of all, for their offense. And when she had exhausted her arms with beating me, she noticed Lygdamus hiding under the couch and yanked him out. He begged for help, by my Guardian Spirit. Lygdamus, what could I do? She’d taken us both! 70 At last, pleading with outstretched arms, I sued for peace, and letting me barely touch her feet, she said: “If you wish me to forgive the crime you have committed, here are the terms you must surrender by: no more will you prowl the Pompeian shade in your finest clothes, nor the Forum, when it is strewn with festive sand; and beware of turning your gaze to the theater’s upper rows, nor slow your pace, lured by some open sedan. Above all Lygdamus, prime cause of my complaint, is to be sold. Put chains on both his feet.” 80 She thus laid down her terms. I said, “Your word is law.” She laughed, gloating over the power she’d gained. Whatever those other girls had touched, she purified with incense, and with pure water she scoured our door; and she ordered all the lamps emptied and filled again, and thrice she grazed my brow with burning sulphur. And after every cover that lay on the couch was changed, I paid my tribute, and peace reigned over our bed.
Notes to Propertius IV.8 This poem, which marks Cynthia’s last appearance in Propertius, is in many ways a companion piece to the previous poem (P.IV.7). That poem gave us a tragic picture of Cynthia in death; this one gives us a comic picture of Cynthia in life. Taken together, the two poems give us a final, unforgettable portrait of the woman who was the center of Propertius’s poetry and life. 1-2 Propertius lived on Rome’s Esquiline Hill, near the public park established by Maecenas (the “New Gardens”). The Esquiline is called “watery” because it was the site of several aqueducts and many fountains. 3-14 Lanuvium, a town near Rome, was the site of the unusual cult of Juno the Saviour, whose rituals included a yearly offering of food by virgins to a cave-dwelling snake, as described here. 18-21 Lines 19-20 as given in the manuscripts obviously do not belong there. They have been omitted from this translation. 23-26 The lover with whom Cynthia went to Lanuvium was a spendthrift playboy who followed the degenerate practice of plucking his body hair to achieve the smooth, statue-like appearance then fashionable in certain quarters. He rides about in a chariot with silken trappings which would be more appropriate for a lady. Molossians were a particularly large and fierce breed of dog: to put cute collars on one would be as affected as putting a rhinestone collar on a Great Dane. Propertius predicts that this fop will soon meet the fate of many upper-class spendthrifts: in order to survive when all his money is gone, he will have to enlist in a gladiatorial school. Unlike most Romans, gladiators commonly wore beards. 29 near Aventine Diana That is, near the Temple of Diana on the Aventine Hill. 31 Tarpeia’s Woods This neighborhood on the Capitoline Hill was actually called Between the Groves. Tarpeia was a figure from Roman legend associated with this hill, so Propertius alludes to the neighborhood as Between Tarpeia’s (i.e., the Capitoline) Groves, which is loosely translated here as Tarpeia’s Woods. 35 lawn The party is held in an enclosed courtyard of Propertius’s house. 37 glass It was apparently customary to use glass tableware in summer. Glass was expensive and therefore a sign of luxury -- this party is to be first class. 41 Dwarfs were popular as entertainers. We do not hear of Big Boy elsewhere, but evidently he was much in demand at the time. 43-44 Both bad omens. The table was a portable folding table brought out into the courtyard for the party. 45-46 Romans often amused themselves by throwing dice at parties, and it seems that omens could also be read from a dice throw. The game Propertius refers to here used four dice: the lowest throw, four ones, was called The Dog; the highest throw, when all four dice showed different numbers, was called Venus. 48 The poet envisions himself as an “excluded lover” pining at the gates of Lanuvium and wishing that his mistress would come to open them. When Cynthia barges through his door in the immediately following lines, his wish ironically comes true. 63 spoils Cynthia was carrying tatters of dress and hair as victory tokens of which she had “despoiled” her defeated enemies. 66 offense Cynthia must have realized when she came in that the party had not yet proceeded to the main event, but she assumes (wrongly, as we know from line 47) that Propertius enjoyed looking at the two floozies who were with him, and this in itself was crime enough. 69 Guardian Spirit The Romans believed that every person had a divine Guardian Spirit. When begging help from someone, the plea could be made “in the name of your Guardian Spirit” (roughly as we might say “in the name of God”). 75 Pompeian shade The Portico of Pompey was always crowded and thus was a good place to look for pick-ups. 76 That is, when the Forum is strewn with sand on holidays for gladiatorial shows, another promising place to meet women. 77 Imperial decree required women to sit only in the upper rows of the theater. 79-80 Cynthia apparently assumes that Lygdamus had been pimping for his master.
Propertius IV.11
No longer, Paullus, plead in tears before my grave: the black gates will not yield to any prayers. When once the dead have passed beneath the powers below, their way is barred with steel no cries can move; and though The God may hear you in his murky hall, his shores will drink your tears without a sign. Vows move the Upper Gods: when the boatman takes his coin, a blank door closes off the grassy tomb. Thus sang the sorrowing trumpet, when the vicious torch was laid beneath me, burning me away. 10 The wife of Paullus, daughter of a triumphal line, -- what good were all these tokens of my fame? Cornelia for all these had no less harsh a fate: five fingers now could gather all I am. O hateful realms of night, and torpid pools and streams, and these blurred waves that twist about my feet, untimely have I come, yet not for any crime: here let the Father vindicate my shade. Or if some grim Aeacus is seated by the urn, then let him judge me when my lot is drawn, 20 with both his brothers by him, while in the hushed court the awesome Furies stand at Minos’s chair. Sisyphus, rest from your stone; be stilled, Ixion’s wheel; let Tantalus’s lips take up the taunting stream; and, Cerberus, this day savage no wandering shade, but let your chain lie slack on the mute bolt. I plead my case myself: if falsely, may the urn, the Sisters’ penalty, weigh down my neck. If fame has honored any through high ancestral deeds, Africa tells of my Numantine sires. 30 The Libones, my maternal line, have no less pride, and each house is exalted by its past. Then, when childhood’s gown gave way to the wedding torch, and another fillet bound my gathered hair, I came to your bed, Paullus, to leave it only thus: “She married once,” is written on this stone. And by my forebears’ ashes, Rome, that you revere, beneath whose glories Africa lies crushed, 38 I never brought discredit on the Censor’s powers: 41 no stain of mine has ever shamed our hearth. Cornelia never wronged the splendor of such triumphs: but even in that great house was virtue’s pattern. And my life never changed, but knew no sin throughout; from torch to torch, we lived in high esteem, for nature gave me laws drawn from my very blood: no fear of judgment could compel more worth. However strict a jury passes on my case, to take my side will taint no woman’s honor; 50 not yours, who moved reluctant Cybebe with the line, Claudia, rare handmaid of the towered goddess; nor yours, whose linen gown revealed the hearth still lived, when Vesta claimed her sacred fire’s return. Nor did I injure you, Scribonia, dear mother: what would you change in me except my end? A mother’s tears, the City’s anguish, honor me, and Caesar’s grief defends me in my grave. “A sister worthy of my own dear child has died!” he sorrows, and we saw a god in tears. 60 And yet I earned the robe that honors fertile wives: death did not tear me from a childless home. You, Lepidus and Paullus, my solace after death, my eyes were closed as I leaned on your breast. And I have seen my brother twice in the curule chair; entering his consulship, he lost his sister. Daughter, born to seal your father’s Censorship, hold to one husband only, as did I. Sustain our line with offspring: gladly I embark, leaving so many to extend my life. 70 This is woman’s ultimate triumph, her last reward, when praise is freely given her honored dust. Now, Paullus, take these children, tokens of our love: my care for them lives, burnt into my ashes. As father, be their mother: now this whole brood of mine it falls on you to bear upon your shoulders; and when you kiss away their tears, add my caresses, for our whole house must be your burden now. And if you weep yourself, never let them be there! With dry cheeks mask your kisses when they come. 80 Enough, to weary the nights, Paullus, lamenting me, and the dreams that often seem to bring my face; and when, within our room, you murmur to my picture, speak every word as if I still were there. Yet if a different couch stands opposite our door, and a wary stepmother comes to our bed, I bid you, children, welcome your father’s bride with praise: she will surrender, taken by your love. And do not over praise your mother: your brash speech comparing her to me will cause her pain. 90 But if he stays contented remembering the dead, still cherishing my ashes at such cost, learn even now to see his old age coming on, and guard him from the cares of widowhood. The years that I have lost I pray be given to you: thus may my children comfort Paullus’s age. And all is well: I never mourned a child of mine; not one was missing from my funeral. My cause is pled. Arise and weep, my witnesses, while grateful Earth repays my life’s deserts. 100 Virtue has scaled even Heaven: may my merit earn my shade a place among my honored sires.
Notes to Propertius IV.11 Cornelia, the subject of this last elegy of Propertius, was a Roman matron of the highest rank by both birth and marriage. Through her father she was descended from the Cornelian Scipiones, one of the noblest lines in Rome. Her mother Scribonia was briefly the wife of Augustus in a marriage of political convenience; although Augustus soon divorced her, he kept custody of their daughter Julia, who remained his only child. Cornelia, Scribonia’s daughter by a previous marriage, married Paullus Aemilius Lepidus, also of illustrious lineage, and bore him two sons and a daughter. We know from this poem that Cornelia died in 16 b.c., before her children were grown and when she herself apparently was still young. In spite of her family’s prominence, we know nothing about Cornelia herself except what we can derive from this poem. Although this piece can in no way be described as an erotic elegy, it nevertheless is included in this anthology because its subject serves as such an enlightening contrast to the women who were the subjects of erotic elegy. Cornelia is the incarnation of the virtuous matron of the Roman Republic. She represents, in the profoundest sense, everything that Cynthia and the other elegiac mistresses are not. To the Roman mind, Cornelia is the polarity of which Cynthia and the others are the opposite, and these two images of Roman womanhood must ultimately be understood together. 5 The God Dis, god of the dead. 6 boatman Charon 18 Father Dis, who was sometimes called “Father Dis.” 19-21 One tradition among the Greeks held that the dead were judged by three mythical figures called Aeacus, Rhadamanthos, and Minos. Propertius here follows this Greek tradition but models the trial on Roman court procedure. In Roman courts, lots were drawn from an urn to decide the order in which cases were tried. 22 Furies The Furies were demon-goddesses who tormented sinners by driving them mad. 28 Sisters’ Danaids 29-30 A compressed way of saying, “If anyone can claim illustrious ancestry, I can, since I am descended from the conquerers of Africa and Numantia.” The ancestors referred to are Scipio Africanus the Elder, conquerer of Hannibal, and Scipio Africanus the Younger, who captured Numantia in Spain. 33 childhood’s gown Upper-class Roman children traditionally wore a purple-bordered toga. 34 As a rule, girls wore their hair loose and matrons wore it bound up. This line implies that girls and matrons also wore distinctive headbands. 36 This line implies that the whole elegy was actually inscribed on Cornelia’s tomb. 38-41 Lines 39-40 as they exist in the manuscripts are unintelligible, and no satisfactory emendation has been suggested. They are omitted from this translation. 41 In 22 b.c. Cornelia’s husband was Censor, a high office concerned with, among other things, the enforcement of moral standards among the upper classes. 46 Torches figured prominently in both wedding and funeral rituals. 50-54 Cornelia claims that no woman would be ashamed to defend her, not even the great heroines of Rome’s past whose chastity was confirmed by the gods. To emphasize this claim, she adduces two examples of such heroines. When the image of the Great Mother Cybele (or Cybebe) was brought to Rome, the ship carrying it ran aground in the Tiber. Claudia Quinta, a matron who had been the subject of malicious gossip, prayed the gods to give her the power to move the ship if she were chaste; she then pulled it back into the water single-handedly. Another story tells of the Vestal Virgin Aemilia, who entrusted the sacred fire of Vesta to a younger priestess who carelessly let it go out. This was the worst possible omen for the state, and also implied that the priestess responsible had broken her vows of chastity. Aemilia, after praying that the fire should be rekindled as proof of her chastity, laid her linen robe on the cold ashes, which immediately burst into flame again. 52 towered Cybele was traditionally depicted wearing a headdress decorated with model towers. 59 Julia, Augustus’s only child, was Cornelia’s half-sister. See introductory note. 60 god Augustus was not officially deified until after his death, but his more fervent admirers expressed a belief in his divinity during his lifetime. 61 Wives who had borne three children were given special privileges by the state, including the right to wear a distinctive type of dress. 63 Lepidus and Paullus were her two sons by Paullus. Lepidus in adult life had a distinguished but historically unimportant career. The younger Paullus grew up to marry Julia the Younger, Augustus’s granddaughter (and his own cousin), but later he became involved in a plot against Augustus and was executed. The “curule chair” was a symbol of high office. 65-66 We know from other sources that Cornelia’s brother was consul in 16 b.c; hence, this must be the date of Cornelia’s death and the dramatic date of the poem. The consulship was in theory the chief executive office of Rome. 67 Paullus was Censor in 22 b.c.; thus the daughter would have been six years old at the time of Cornelia’s death. As the official guardian of public morals, a Censor was expected to be a good family man; this is why Cornelia states that the birth of their daughter confirmed her husband’s worthiness to be Censor. We have no other certain information about this daughter. 70 embark In Charon’s boat. 85 Roman couples kept a bed (the lectus genialis) symbolizing their marriage near the house door. In the case of a remarriage, the bed would be remade. 100 Earth This primarily refers to the powers of the Underworld, who are to pass judgment on her. There may also be a reference to the goddess Earth, who was often associated with justice. 101 A few very virtuous men from myth and legend became gods; the most notable example was Hercules. (Since Augustus was considered divine [see above, on line 60], this line may constitute a final, oblique compliment to him.) Cornelia’s argument is, “Since virtue can even win some souls Heaven, surely my virtue will at least earn me entrance to whatever part of the Underworld is allotted to the good.” |