Poem of the day.

From, the commentary at Dalrocks, Juvenal.

Eppia, wife of a senator, ran off with the gladiators
To Pharos, to the Nile, and notorious Alexandria;

Even decadent Canopus condemned immoral Rome;
She forgot her home, her husband, deserted her sister,

Shamelessly, left her country, her wailing children,
And, amazingly, Paris her actor, and the Games.

Though, as a child of a wealthy family, she once slept
In a richly decorated cradle on soft, downy pillows,

That sea voyage concerned her little; nor her reputation,
Which is ever the least of losses to such ladies of luxury.

And, with a firm spirit, she endured Tyrrhenian waves,
The Ionian Sea’s vast roar, though she was often hurled

From one abyss to another. Though the reason be just
And virtuous, for taking risks, women are still afraid,

Their hearts frozen with terror, trembling in every limb:
Yet they’re courageous when daring shameful things.

If a husband demands it; then, boarding ship’s a pain,
The bilge is sickening, sky spinning round and round.

But with a lover, her stomach’s fine. A wife will vomit
Over her husband, a mistress eat with the sailors, stride

The deck, and delight in handling the stubborn rigging.
Was it good looks and youthfulness set Eppia on fire?

What did she see in him to endure being classed with
The gladiators? After all, her Sergius had already begun

To smooth his throat, an injured arm presaged retirement;
And his face was seriously disfigured, a furrow chafed

By his helmet, a huge lump on the bridge of his nose,
And a nasty condition provoking a forever-weeping eye.

He was a gladiator, though. That makes them Hyacinthus;
That’s why she preferred him to children and country,

Husband and sister. They love the steel. That same Sergius
Once discharged, would have dwindled to poor Veiiento.

Juvenal, The Satires: Satire VI, 82-113