Portavi lacrimis madidus te, nostra catella,
quod feci lustris laetior ante tribus.
ergo mihi, Patrice, iam non dabis oscula mille
nec poteris collo grata cubare meo.
tristis marmorea posui te sede merentem
et iunxi semper Manibus ipse meis,
moribus argutis hominem simulare paratam;
perdidimus quales, hei mihi, delicias!
tu dulcis, Patrice, nostras attingere mensas
consueras, gremio poscere blanda cibos,
lambere tu calicem lingua rapiente solebas
quem tibi saepe meae sustinuere manus,
accipere et lassum cauda gaudente frequenter . . .
Bedewed with tears I have carried you, our little dog, as in happier circumstances I did fifteen years ago. So now, Patrice, you will no longer give me a thousand kisses, nor will you be able to lie affectionately round my neck. You were a good dog, and in sorrow I have placed you in a marble tomb, and I have united you forever to myself when I die. You readily matched a human with your clever ways; alas, what a pet we have lost! You, sweet Patrice, were in the habit of joining us at table and fawningly asking for food in our lap, you were accustomed to lick with your gready tongue the cup which my hands often held for you and regularly to welcome your tired master with wagging tail . . . (tr. Edward Courtney)
Splendor parentum nil mihi maius dedit
quam quod marito digna iam tum visa sum,
sed lumen omne vel decus nomen viri,
Agori, superbo qui creatus germine
patriam senatum coniugemque inluminas
probitate mente moribus studiis simul,
virtutis apicem quis supremum nanctus es.
tu namque, quidquid lingua utraque est proditum
cura soforum, porta quis caeli patet,
vel quae periti condidere carmina,
vel quae solutis vocibus sunt edita,
meliora reddis quam legendo sumpseras.
sed ista parva: tu pius mystes sacris
teletis reperta mentis arcano premis
divumque numen multiplex doctus colis,
sociam benigne coniugem nectens sacris
hominum deumque consciam ac fidam tibi.
quid nunc honores aut potestates loquar
hominumque votis adpetita gaudia,
quae tu caduca ac parva semper autumans
divum sacerdos infulis celsus clues?
tu me, marite, disciplinarum bono
puram et pudicam sorte mortis eximens
in templa ducis ac famulam divis dicas;
te teste cunctis imbuor mysteriis;
tu Dindymenes Atteosque antistitem
teletis honoras taureis consors pius;
Hecates ministram trina secreta edoces
Cererisque Graiae tu sacris dignam paras.
te propter omnis me beatam, me piam
celebrant, quod ipse me bonam disseminas
totum per orbem: ignota noscor omnibus:
nam te marito cur placere non queam?
exemplum de me Romulae matres petunt
subolemque pulchram, si tuae similis, putant;
optant probantque nunc viri, nunc feminae,
quae tu magister indidisti insignia.
his nunc ademptis maesta coniunx maceror
felix, maritum si superstitem mihi
divi dedissent, sed tamen felix, tua
quia sum fuique postque mortem mox ero.
(ILS 1259 = CIL VI.1779)
The splendor of my kinship granted me
no greater gift than this: that I seemed fit
to be your wife. For in my husband’s name,
Agorius, I find my light and grace.
You, created from proud seed, have shone
on fatherland, on senate, and on spouse
with rightness of conduct, of learning, and of mind.
You won the crown of virtue in this way.
Whatever has been penned in either tongue
by sages free to enter heaven’s door
(whether poetry composed in expert lines,
or prose that’s uttered with a looser voice),
you’ve read, and left it better than you found.
But these are little things. You piously
in mind’s most secret parts had hid away
the mysteries you learned of sacred rites.
The many-faceted numen of the gods
you knew to worship; and your faithful spouse
you bound to you as colleague in the rites,
now sharing what you knew of gods and men.
Why speak of earthly powers, public praise,
and joys men seek with sighs? You called
them fleeting, counted them as small,
while you won glory in the priestly garb.
The goodness of your teaching, husband, freed
me from death’s lot; you took me, pure,
to temples, made me servant to the gods,
stood by while I was steeped in mystery.
Devoted consort, you honored me with blood
of bull, baptized me priestess of Cybele
and Attis; readied me for Grecian Ceres’ rites;
and taught me Hecate’s dark secrets three.
On your account, all praise me as devout;
because you spread my name throughout the world,
I, once unknown, am recognized by all.
How could my husband’s spouse not win applause?
Rome’s matrons look to me as paradigm,
and if their sons resemble yours they think
them handsome. Women and men alike
now long to be upon the honor roll
which you, as master, introduced of old.
Now all these things are gone, and I, your wife,
am wasting in my grief. I had been blest
if gods had granted me the sooner grave.
But, husband, even so I’m blest: for yours
I am, and was, and after death will be. (tr. Peter Donnelly)
domui aeternae consecratae
Agileiae Primae, quae et Auguriae,
uxori supra aetatem castissimae et
pudicissimae et frugalissimae, quae innocenter
maritum et domum eius amavit, omnia de se
merenti fecit Q. Oppius Secundus maritus et sibi.
tempore quo sum genita natura mihi bis denos tribuit
annos, quibus completis, septima deinde die resoluta legibus otio sum perpetuo tradita: haec mihi vita fuit.
Oppi, ne metuas Lethen, nam stultum est, tempore et om-
ni, dunc mortem metuas, amittere gaudia vitae.
mors etenim hominum natura, non poena est;
cui contigit nasci, instat et mori. igitur,
domine Oppi marite, ne doleas mei quod praecessi:
sustineo in aeterno toro adventum tuum.
valete superi et cuncti cunctaeque valete.
Auguria, innocua anima tua in bono.
Hail Auguria, a sweet and innocent soul.
To the eternal consecrated house
And to Agileia Prima who was also known as Auguria.
Wife beyond eternity; most chaste and modest and frugal who loved
Her husband and his house and all his possessions innocently.
Quintus Oppius Secundus, her husband, made this for the deserving one and for himself.
At the time I was begotten, nature granted me twice ten
years, upon the fulfillment of which, on the seventh day thereafter,
freed of the laws [that bind one to life] I was given over to unending rest.
This life was given to me, [so]
Oppius, do not fear Lethe, for it is foolish to lose joy of life while fearing death at all time.
For death is the nature, not the punishment of mankind; whoever happens to be born, therefore also faces to die.
Master Oppius, husband, do not lament me because I have preceded you
I await your arrival in the eternal marriage bed.
Be well, my survivors, and all other men and women, be well.
Innocent Auguria, [may] your soul [rest] among the good.
Quam dulcis fuit ista, quam benigna,
quae cum viveret in sinu iacebat
somni conscia semper et cubilis.
o factum male, Myia, quod peristi!
latrares modo si quis adcubaret
rivalis dominae licentiosa.
o factum male, Myia, quod peristi!
altum iam tenet insciam sepulcrum,
nec saevire potes nec insilire,
nec blandis mihi morsibus renides.
How sweet and friendly she was! While she was alive she used to lie in the lap, always sharing sleep and bed. What a shame, Midge, that you have died! You would only bark if some rival took the liberty of lying up against your mistress. What a shame, Midge, that you have died! The depths of the grave now hold you and you know nothing about it. You cannot go wild nor jump on me, and you do not bare your teeth at me with bites that do not hurt. (tr. Edward Courtney)
Quae viae in u(rbem) R(omam) sunt erunt intra ea loca, ubi continenti habitabitur, nequis in ieis vieis post k(alendas) Ianuar(ias) primas plostrum interdiu post solem ortum, neve ante horam decimam diei ducito agito, nisi quod aedium sacrarum deorum inmortalium caussa aedificandarum, operisue publice faciumdei causa, adv<e>hei portari oportebit, aut quod ex urbe exve ieis loceis earum rerum, quae publice demolienda<e> loca<tae> erunt, publice exportarei oportebit, et quarum rerum caussa plostra h(ac) l(ege) certeis hominibus certeis de causeis agere ducere licebit.
quibus diebus virgines Vestales regem sacrorum, flamines plostreis in urbe sacrorum publicorum p(opuli) R(omani) caussa vehi oportebit, quaeque plostra triumphi caussa, quo die quisque triumphabit, ducei oportebit, quaeque plostra ludorum, quei Romae <p(ropius) p(assus) mille> publice feient, inve pompam ludeis circiensibus ducei agei opus erit, quo minus earum rerum caussa eisque diebus plostra interdiu in urbe ducantur agantur, e(ius) h(ac) l(ege) n(ihil) r(ogatur).
quae plostra noctu in urbem inducta erunt, quo minus ea plostra inania aut stercoris exportandei caussa, post solem ortum h(oris) (decimis) diei bubus iumenteisve iuncta in u(rbe) R(oma) et ab u(rbe) R(oma) p(assus) mille esse liceat, e(ius) h(ac) l(ege) n(ihil) r(ogatur).
(Lex Iulia Municipalis, CIL I2.593.56-67)
After January 1 next no one shall drive a wagon along the streets of Rome or along those streets in the suburbs where there is continuous housing after sunrise or before the tenth hour of the day, except whatever will be proper for the transportation and the importation of material for building temples of the immortal gods, or for public works, or for removing from the city rubbish from those buildings for whose demolition public contracts have been let. For these purposes permission shall be granted by this law to specified persons to drive wagons for the reasons stated. Whenever it is proper for the vestal virgins, the king of the sacrifices, or the flamens to ride in the city for the purpose of official sacrifices of the Roman people; whatever wagons are proper for a triumphal procession when any one triumphs; whatever wagons are proper for public games within Rome or within one mile of Rome or for the procession held at the time of the games in the Circus Maximus, it is not the intent of this law to prevent the use of such wagons during the day within the city for these occasions and at these times. It is not the intent of this law to prevent ox wagons or donkey wagons that have been driven into the city by night from going out empty or from carrying out dung from within the city of Rome or within one mile of the city after sunrise until the tenth hour of the day. (tr. Allan Chester Johnson, Paul Robinson Coleman-Norton & Frank Card Bourne)
O utinam liceat collo complexa tenere
braciola et teneris oscula ferre labe(l)lis
i nunc ventis tua gaudia, pupula, crede
crede mihi, levis est natura virorum
saepe ego cu(m) media vigilare(m) perdita nocte
haec mecum medita(n)s: multos Fortuna quos supstulit alte
hos modo proiectos subito praecipitesque premit
sic Venus ut subito coiunxit corpora amantum
dividit lux et se (paries? quid? ama?)
Oh, if only I (fem.) could hold my gentle arms around you
and press my kisses on your tender lips. Go now, girl, confide your
joys to the winds:
believe me, flighty is the nature of men. These things I’ve often
lying awake in despair in the middle of the night: many has Fortune
raised on high
then suddenly let fall headlong, oppressing them with worst trouble.
Likewise, though Venus in a moment unites the bodies of lovers,
the first light divides them and [you (Venus) would separate their love.] (tr. John G. Younger)
Note: I don’t know on what reconstruction of the text the last few words of Mr. Younger’s translation are based.