by Hine, Daryl;
Charms are to mortals and immortals sweet.
Just look at me! My efforts heretofore
Have all been emptied on the arid shore.
CXLVI RHIANUS
As soon as I had trapped I lost the kid;
I’d staked out snares and laboured to deploy them,
But came off empty-handed. Those who did
No work take what is mine—may Love destroy them!
CXLVII MELEAGER
Kidnapped! Who would have the nerve to try it?
Against Love who is so bold to campaign?
Hurry, light the lamps! A footstep? Quiet!
My heart, get back inside my breast again!
CXLVIII CALLIMACHUS
I know I am not wealthy, Menippus;
Don’t tell me what I perfectly recall.
I’m pained by your constant acrimonious
Words, the most unloving thrusts of all.
CXLIX CALLIMACHUS
Last month Menecrates, you know I joked
You would be caught although you ran away?
This month the bull calf’s eager to be yoked,
But I shall not complain of the delay.
CL CALLIMACHUS
How excellent the love-charm Polyphemus
Invented! That cyclops was no ignoramus.
The Muses starve desire into submission,
And wisdom is a general physician.
There’s this to recommend the pangs of hunger,
Philip: they cure sick hankerings for younger
Boys. To the love god I pronounce this spell, “Oh
Ho, your wings are clipped, my little fellow!
I don’t fear you one bit. At home I have,
For Love’s infected wound, two kinds of salve.”
CLI ANONYMOUS
When you beheld the sexiest of blooming
Boys, Apollodotus you were shown;
If you weren’t overwhelmed by all-consuming
Lust, a god you must be, or a stone.
CLII ANONYMOUS
Attractive Heraclitus is my own
Magnet, not drawing iron like a stone,
But my soul by his loveliness alone.
CLIII ASCLEPIADES
Once Archeades used to rub against
Me, now when playing games he doesn’t nod.
Love’s not all honeydew. When he torments
Us Love becomes an even sweeter god.
CLIV MELEAGER
Myiscus’ name is charming, too, which leaves me
No reason for not falling at his feet.
He’s beautiful all over. When he grieves me,
Love interweaves the bitter with the sweet.
CLV ANONYMOUS
[Boy] Don’t speak to me like that again!
[Go-between] No, no,
Only someone sent me . . . Don’t be vexed.
[Boy] That’s the second time!
[Go-between] He told me, ‘Go!’
Come on, they’re waiting for you. Why so slow?
[Boy] We’ll see who’s waiting. I know what comes next.
CLVI ANONYMOUS
My love, Diodorus, is like a spring
Storm, of the fluid sea’s engendering.
You imitate a thundercloud, then after
The weather clears, your eyes brim with soft laughter.
Like a castaway who counts the steep
Waves, I am tempest-tossed upon the deep;
Give me, that I may know in which direction
To swim, marks of aversion or affection.
CLVII MELEAGER
My skipper’s Venus, Cupid mans the helm,
Holding my spirit’s rudder in his hand;
Desire blows hard enough to overwhelm
Me, breasting a sea of boys from every land.
CLVIII MELEAGER
To you, Theocles, Mistress Venus gave
Me. Stretched out at your feet, a naked slave,
An outcast, I was tamed by Love’s tight grip.
I’d like a less abject relationship,
But you rebuff my overtures, unmoved
By how far our relations have improved.
Have pity, lord! For god made you divine:
The means of life and death are yours, not mine.
CLIX MELEAGER
To you, Myiscus, my whole soul is tied,
And all the life and breath in me beside,
For by your eyes that speak, I don’t know how,
To deaf and dumb, and by your shining brow,
Your gloomy glance or laughing look can bring
The chill of winter or the flowers of spring.
CLX ANONYMOUS
Bravely shall I endure my inner pain,
The bondage of this irritating chain;
It’s not the first time I have learned Love’s ire,
Nicander: often have I felt desire.
May Nemesis exact harsh recompense,
Implacably, for his malevolence.
CLXI ASCLEPIADES
Youth-loving Dorcion knows how to shoot
Swift darts of vulgar Venus from her eyes,
Dazzling with desire, just like some cute
Boy with his cap and smock and naked thighs.
CLXII ASCLEPIADES
While not yet armed and dangerous, my love,
An infant, comes to Venus holding these
Tablets of gold, and lisps the love-charms of
Philocrates that psyched Antigenes.
CLXIII ASCLEPIADES
Love has devised a winning combination—
Not emerald with gold, which glitters less,
Nor ebony with ivory. Solicitation
Shows Eubolus Cleander’s friendliness.
CLXIV MELEAGER
Honey-flavoured wine’s as savorous
As boy-love when oneself is under-age.
Alexis’ love for sleek Cleobulus
Is Venus’ sweet, immortal beverage.
CLXV MELEAGER
Cleobulus’ candid blossoms opposite
Sopolis’ honey-coloured bloom excite
Lust for these flower-boys. They say Love knit
Me, Meleager, out of black and white.
CLXVI ASCLEPIADES
If of my soul there’s still some tiny piece
Left, Loves, please do let it rest in peace,
Or, not with arrows but with lightning-flashes,
Reduce me totally to smoking ashes.
Yes, strike me down, exhausted and distressed:
Grant me, if nothing more, this last request.
CLXVII MELEAGER
Myiscus, despite this wintry wind I’m swept
Away by Love’s sweet tears to pay you court.
Desire is like a hurricane. Accept
This loving mariner into your port.
CLXVIII POSIDIPPUS
To Nanno and to Lydé, that makes two
Cups; to Mimnermus, sympathetic to
Lovers, and prudish Antimachus too.
The fifth’s for me, the sixth in honour of
Anyone who ever fell in love.
Hesiod, seven, Homer, eight, and then
The Muses, nine, and Memory makes ten.
I drain the brimming bowl to Love, a lad
Who, drunk or sober, doesn’t look too bad.
CLXIX DIOSCORIDES
I thought I had escaped my worst oppressor,
Theodore, when I threw off your weight.
Aristocrates proved a worse successor,
And now my third slavemaster I await.
CLXX DIOSCORIDES
By frankincense and by libations I
Swear, and the potations that decide
The limits of our friendship, dread gods by
Whom dusky Athenaeus testified.
CLXXI DIOSCORIDES
Zephyr, bring beautiful Euphragoras
Back, whom you took away not long ago
On pilgrimage. For lovers short months pass
Like a milenium, but twice as
slow.
CLXXII EVENUS
Since hating’s a bore and loving is a bore,
I like the nicer of two boredoms more.
CLXXIII PHILODEMUS
Demo and Thermion slay me: one’s a whore
Whereas the other doesn’t know the score.
I fondle one, the other I may not;
I don’t know which one I desire more!
The virgin, I’ll say; for I don’t long for what
Is handy, but what is arduously got.
CLXXIV FRONTO
How much longer, Cyrus, will you fight us
Off? You should be nice to older men.
Soon you’ll get Harry, so do not play Titus
Now, for you will not be stuck-up then.
CLXXV STRATO
If you don’t want your cronies leering at
Your slaveboys, pick them less effeminate.
What man of adamant resists the joys
Of love and wine and quizzing pretty boys?
They’re part of living. But to some place with no
Drinking or sex, if that’s your crotchet, go:
Tiresias and Tantalus meet there,
One cannot see, and one can only stare.
CLXXVI STRATO
Menippus, why go shrouded to your feet?
You used to hike your robe up to your thighs.
Why hang your head in silence when we meet?
Your prickly privates come as no surprise.
CLXXVII STRATO
Last night Moiris, when we said goodnight—
Really, or was I dreaming?—squeezed me tight.
Everything else I perfectly recall,
What he asked me, what he said, and all.
I guess he kissed me; but, if that is so,
Why, raised to heaven, linger here below?
CLXXVIII STRATO
Theudnis turned me on, all other bright
Stellar boys his rising sun outshone;
He’s still a sun, though in decline: each night
More hirsute, nonetheless he turns me on.
CLXXIX STRATO
I swore I’d never tell a soul a thing
(Not even myself) of Theudnis’ offering.
But my rebellious soul could not refuse
In exultation spreading the good news.
In a word—forgive me—he put out.
What use is luck you cannot brag about?
CLXXX STRATO
I feel a trifle warm. You with the fine
Napkin, boy, stop waving it about.
The fire in me was kindled by the wine
You served; your fanning will not put it out.
CLXXXI STRATO
It is a pious fable that the Graces
Number three, Theocles, and are kind;
How many graceful marksmen guard your face’s
Graces, the soul-destroyers of mankind?
CLXXXII STRATO
Don’t waste your kisses, Daphnis! Love’s last ember
Is quenched, and I shall call you my sweetheart
No longer. Your resistance I remember:
Is it too late now for a change of heart?
CLXXXIII STRATO
Heliodorus, what’s a kiss unless
With avid lips you thrust yourself on me?
Instead you peck my cheek, emotionless,
As if you were a waxen effigy.
CLXXXIV STRATO
With Menedemus all you need to do
Is wink; he’ll tell you plainly, “Go ahead!”
Without demur. He’s way ahead of you,
Wide open as a ditch—or riverbed?
CLXXXV STRATO
Such airy-fairy boys, with purple edges
On their robes, are hard to get as those
Ripe figs that grow high up on rocky ledges,
Which vultures gobble, Diphilus, and crows.
CLXXXVI STRATO
Mentor, how long will you continue so
Conceited you won’t even say hello,
Proposing in the Pyrrhic dance to spend
An endless youth? Look rather to your end.
Face hair will cause you terminal distress;
You’ll learn the meaning, then, of friendlessness.
CLXXXVII STRATO
How teach a boy that fundamental skill,
Sight-reading, when your voice is changing still?
From shrill soprano to gruff bass you swoop
So quickly, from a whisper to a whoop.
But study harder, show the envious
Active and passive, Dionysius.
CLXXXVIII STRATO
If when I kiss you you consider this
Outrageous, make my penalty a kiss.
CLXXXIX STRATO
Who crowned you with this rosy wreath? Some kind
Admirer? Your father? Well, he isn’t blind.
CXC STRATO
Happy the artist and the medium
Which by your loveliness were overcome!
I wish I were a woodworm, feeding on
The board on which your likeness has been drawn.
CXCI STRATO
Just yesterday a boy, till this damned beard,
Undreamt of, suddenly appeared somehow,
Hiding with hair your former beauty. Weird
How one who was Troilus then is Priam now!
CXCII STRATO
Long hair, abundant artificial curls
Give me no pleasure: they belong on girls.
No, give me boys all sweaty from the gym,
Glistening with oil on every limb.
I like sex unembellished, scenting in
Glamour a whiff of something feminine.
CXCIII STRATO
Ignoring Nemesis, whose strictures stress,
Artemidorus, “Nothing in excess”,
You act more arrogant and boorish than
The most uncouth, loud-mouthed comedian.
Remember this, proud lad, when you are crossed
In love, and must perform Love’s Labour’s Lost.
CXCIV STRATO
If Zeus still snatched up mortal boys on high
To serve delicious nectar in the sky,
By now a pinioned eagle would have pressed
My darling into service with the blest.
But let the ruler of the world take heed:
Agrippa will eclipse his Ganymede.
CXCV STRATO
There are no breezy meadows blossoming
So densely with the splendours of the spring
As, Dionysius, you’ll see acclaimed
Boys here by Venus and the Graces framed.
Milesius, outstanding among those,
Flourishes like a fragrant, lustrous rose,
Oblivious, perhaps, that as a fair
Flower wilts in the heat, his prime hangs by a hair.
CXCVI STRATO
Your sparkling eyes, Lycinus, what divine
Beauties! Call them rather fiery rays.
I cannot, facing you, sustain with mine
Momentarily your blazing gaze.
CXCVII STRATO
Which of the sages said, “Know the right time,”
Philip? All things are choicest at their prime.
A green cucumber is praiseworthy till
Overripe, when it becomes pig swill.
CXCVIII STRATO
A friend of youth, I have no youth in mind,
For each has beauties, of a different kind.
CXCIX STRATO
I’ve had enough to drink; my heart and soul
As well as tongue are losing self-control.
The lamp flame bifurcates; I multiply
The dinner guests by two each time I try.
Not only shaken up by the wine-waiter,
I ogle too the boy who pours the water.
CC STRATO
I loathe a boy who won’t be hugged and kissed,
Raises his voice and hits me with his fist,
Nor do I wish the wanton
willingness
Of one who in my arms at once says, Yes.
I like one in between who seems to know
The secret of saying at once Yes and No.
CCI STRATO
If pretty soon the rogue does not appear,
I swear Cleonicus may stay away.
Why swear? He had a dream, but he’ll be here
Tomorrow. We’ll survive another day.
CCII STRATO
As soon as I saw your letter, Damis, saying
That you were coming, Love blew me so fast
From Smyrna to Sardis, that the winds, relaying
Each other, surely would have come in last.
CCIII STRATO
You kiss me against my will, as I do you,
Pleasant when spurned, unpleasant when I woo.
