Dicebam ‘medicare tuos desiste capillos!’
tingere quam possis, iam tibi nulla coma est.
at si passa fores, quid erat spatiosius illis?
contigerant imum, qua patet usque, latus.
I kept saying, “Stop treating your hair!” Before you could dye it, now you have no hair at all. But if you had left it alone, what could have been more abundant than that? It used to reach down to your lowest parts, as far as extends.
The passage reflects the Roman preoccupation with hair care and beauty treatments. Hair dyeing was extremely common among Roman women, especially to cover gray hair or to achieve the fashionable blonde or reddish tints. The dyes used were often harsh chemical substances, including lead-based compounds and henna, which could damage the hair severely. Some treatments were so caustic they could cause hair loss, which is the situation being criticized here.
Long hair was considered a mark of beauty for Roman women, and they often grew it to remarkable lengths. When the poet mentions hair reaching the “lowest parts,” he’s referring to hair reaching the hips or lower back, which was seen as particularly attractive. The natural length and abundance of a woman’s hair was highly prized, making its loss through excessive treatment particularly tragic from the Roman perspective.
quid, quod erant tenues, et quos ornare timeres?
vela colorati qualia Seres habent,
vel pede quod gracili deducit aranea filum,
cum leve deserta sub trabe nectit opus.
nec tamen ater erat nec erat tamen aureus ille,
sed, quamvis neuter, mixtus uterque color—
qualem clivosae madidis in vallibus Idae
ardua derepto cortice cedrus habet.
And what of the fact that they were delicate, and which you would fear to adorn? Like the veils that the colored Seres possess, or like the thread that a spider draws out with its slender foot when it weaves its light work beneath a lonely beam. Yet it was neither black nor golden, but though neither color, it was a mixture of both—like the color that the tall cedar has in the damp valleys of steep Ida when its bark has been stripped.
The passage shows remarkable knowledge of exotic trade goods and geography for Roman times. The Seres were the Romans’ name for the Chinese, famous for their silk production. The reference to their “veils” (vela) means silk cloth, which was an extremely expensive luxury import arriving via the Silk Road. The Romans were fascinated by silk’s delicate, almost transparent nature, though they didn’t understand exactly how it was made.
The comparison to a spider’s web was a common poetic device, emphasizing both the fineness of the thread and its natural beauty. The description of the cedar’s color as neither black nor golden but a mixture suggests a rich brown or auburn shade. Mount Ida (here referred to simply as “Ida”) could refer either to the mountain in Crete where Zeus was said to have been raised, or to a mountain in the Troad region of Asia Minor. The reference to stripped cedar bark suggests familiarity with the timber trade, as cedar was prized for both its color and fragrance in Roman construction and furniture-making.
Adde, quod et dociles et centum flexibus apti
et tibi nullius causa doloris erant.
non acus abrupit, non vallum pectinis illos.
ornatrix tuto corpore semper erat;
ante meos saepe est oculos ornata nec umquam
bracchia derepta saucia fecit acu.
Add to this that they were both manageable and suitable for a hundred styles, and were no cause of pain to you. No hairpin broke them, no row of comb teeth [damaged] them. Your hairdresser was always safe in her person; often she styled [your hair] before my eyes and never made her arms wounded with a broken pin.
Roman hairdressing was a complex and often dangerous business. Professional hairdressers (ornatrices) were typically skilled slaves who could command high prices. They used long metal pins (acus) to secure elaborate hairstyles, and these pins could become dangerous weapons if they broke or slipped. The mention of “hundred styles” (centum flexibus) isn’t just poetic exaggeration - Roman women’s hairstyles were incredibly diverse and changed frequently with fashion. Archaeological evidence shows numerous types of combs and hairpins, some quite elaborate and made of precious materials.
The safety of the ornatrix is significant - there are historical accounts of angry mistresses stabbing their hairdressers with pins when dissatisfied with their work. The relationship between a wealthy Roman woman and her ornatrix was close but potentially volatile, as the hairdresser’s mistakes could ruin her mistress’s public appearance. The emphasis on the hair being manageable and causing no pain contrasts with the harsh chemical treatments mentioned elsewhere, highlighting the natural beauty that has been lost through excessive styling.
saepe etiam nondum digestis mane capillis
purpureo iacuit semisupina toro.
tum quoque erat neclecta decens, ut Threcia Bacche,
cum temere in viridi gramine lassa iacet.
Often even in the morning, with her hair not yet arranged, she would lie half-reclined on her purple bed. Then too she was becoming in her neglect, like a Thracian Bacchante, when she lies carelessly tired on the green grass.
The image draws on both Roman domestic life and mythological associations. The purple (purpureo) bed coverings indicate wealth, as true purple dye was extremely expensive and often restricted to the elite. The morning scene depicted would have been intimate and private - Roman women of status spent considerable time having their hair arranged by slaves each morning, and being seen with uncombed hair would normally be considered inappropriate.
The comparison to a Bacchante is particularly loaded with cultural meaning. Bacchantes were female worshippers of Bacchus (Dionysus) associated with wild, ecstatic rituals in the mountains of Thrace. They were known for their disheveled appearance and abandoned behavior, letting their hair flow freely during their religious frenzies. By comparing the woman’s natural, unkempt morning appearance to a Bacchante, the poet transforms what could be seen as unseemly into something alluring and even divine. The reference to Thrace specifically adds an exotic, barbaric element - to Roman audiences, Thrace represented a wild, uncivilized region where normal social constraints didn’t apply.
Cum graciles essent tamen et lanuginis instar,
heu, male vexatae quanta tulere comae!
quam se praebuerunt ferro patienter et igni,
ut fieret torto nexilis orbe sinus!
clamabam: ‘scelus est istos, scelus urere crines!
sponte decent; capiti, ferrea, parce tuo!
vim procul hinc remove! non est, qui debeat uri;
erudit admotas ipse capillus acus.’
Although they were delicate and like down, alas, how much your badly mistreated hair endured! How patiently it submitted itself to iron and fire, so that curls might be formed in twisted circles! I would cry out: “It’s a crime to burn those hairs, a crime! They are beautiful naturally; spare your head, you cruel one! Remove force far from here! There is no need for burning; the hair itself guides the pins applied to it.”
Roman hairstyling was an elaborate and often painful process involving heated metal implements (calamistri) used to create artificial curls. These curling irons were heated in ash or over a flame, making the process dangerous as well as uncomfortable. The poem’s speaker protests against these artificial methods, advocating for natural beauty—a common literary trope that shouldn’t be taken as representing actual Roman beauty practices.
The technical vocabulary reveals sophisticated hair-styling methods: the mention of ferro et igni (iron and fire) refers to these heated implements, while nexilis describes the intricate weaving and plaiting techniques used to create complex hairstyles. The reference to acus (pins) indicates the metal hairpins used to secure these elaborate constructions. These could be quite valuable, often made of precious metals and decorated with jewels or carvings.
The comparison of natural hair to lanugo (down) was a conventional way of praising fine, soft hair. The speaker’s emotional outburst against hair-styling as scelus (crime) employs typical rhetorical exaggeration, but also reflects genuine concern about damage from harsh styling methods. The personification of hair as something that could “teach” the pins how to style it naturally is a particularly elegant poetic conceit.
Formosae periere comae—quas vellet Apollo,
quas vellet capiti Bacchus inesse suo!
illis contulerim, quas quondam nuda Dione
pingitur umenti sustinuisse manu.
quid male dispositos quereris periisse capillos?
quid speculum maesta ponis, inepta, manu?
Beautiful hair has perished—hair that Apollo would want, that Bacchus would want to be on his own head! I would compare it to that which naked Dione is painted as having held up with her moist hand. Why do you lament that your badly arranged hair has perished? Why, foolish one, do you put down your mirror with sad hand?
The reference to Apollo and Bacchus draws on classical ideals of divine beauty. Both gods were traditionally depicted with long, flowing hair—Apollo’s typically golden and Bacchus’ dark and crowned with vine leaves. Their hair represented a masculine ideal of beauty that transcended normal gender boundaries in Roman thought.
The mention of Dione refers to a famous artistic motif known as the “Anadyomene” pose, showing Venus (or her mother Dione) rising from the sea and wringing out her hair. This image was popularized by a famous painting by Apelles, which Augustus displayed in Rome. The “moist hand” (umenti manu) specifically evokes this iconic representation.
The mirror (speculum) was a significant item in Roman culture, often made of polished metal rather than glass. Expensive mirrors were status symbols and essential tools for the elaborate hairdressing of wealthy women. The act of putting down the mirror in despair is both practical and symbolic—representing the abandonment of beauty rituals and self-care.
non bene consuetis a te spectaris ocellis;
ut placeas, debes inmemor esse tui.
non te cantatae laeserunt paelicis herbae,
non anus Haemonia perfida lavit aqua;
nec tibi vis morbi nocuit—procul omen abesto!—
nec minuit densas invida lingua comas.
facta manu culpaque tua dispendia sentis;
ipsa dabas capiti mixta venena tuo.
You are not viewed well by your accustomed eyes; to please yourself, you ought to forget yourself. No enchanted herbs of a rival have harmed you, no treacherous old woman has washed you with Haemonian water; nor has the force of disease harmed you—may such an omen be far off!—nor has an envious tongue diminished your thick hair. You feel the losses made by your own hand and fault; you yourself were applying mixed poisons to your head.
The text delves into the world of Roman magical practices and beauty treatments. Thessaly (Haemonia) was notorious as a land of witches and magic, and “Thessalian waters” were associated with potions and spells. The mention of a rival’s herbs reflects the common practice of using magic to harm competitors in love, often through poisoned cosmetics or enchanted objects.
Old women (anus) were frequently depicted as witches or producers of dangerous potions in Roman literature. They were thought to have particular expertise in love magic and harmful spells. The “envious tongue” refers to the Roman belief in the evil eye and verbal curses, which were thought capable of causing physical harm including hair loss.
The hair treatments mentioned as “mixed poisons” were likely harsh chemical dyes and bleaches. Roman women used various substances including lead acetate, calcium hydroxide, and plant-based dyes to color their hair. These treatments could indeed be toxic, causing damage and hair loss - making the term “poison” (venena) literally true, not just poetically apt.
Nunc tibi captivos mittet Germania crines;
tuta triumphatae munere gentis eris.
o quam saepe comas aliquo mirante rubebis,
et dices: ‘empta nunc ego merce probor,
nescio quam pro me laudat nunc iste Sygambram.
fama tamen memini cum fuit ista mea.’
Now Germany will send you captive hair; you will be safe with the gift of a conquered people. Oh how often you will blush when someone admires your hair, and you will say: “Now I am praised for purchased merchandise; that man is now praising some Sygambrian woman in my place. Yet I remember when that fame was my own.”
Germanic hair was highly prized in Roman society, particularly the blonde or reddish-blonde variety that was characteristic of northern European peoples. After Roman military victories over Germanic tribes, there was often a substantial trade in human hair, taken as spoils of war or tribute. Roman women would purchase these light-colored wigs to achieve the fashionable blonde look without resorting to harsh chemical dyes.
The Sygambri were a Germanic tribe that had been defeated by Roman forces, and the reference to them adds specificity to what might otherwise be a generic reference to Germanic peoples. The mention of “captive hair” (captivos crines) carries multiple layers of meaning - literally referring to hair taken from conquered peoples, but also suggesting the Roman practice of displaying captured enemies in triumph processions.
The speaker’s predicted embarrassment at being complimented on purchased hair reveals social tensions around artificial beauty enhancements. While wigs were common among wealthy Roman women, there was still some stigma attached to wearing someone else’s hair, particularly that of a “barbarian.” The final lines express nostalgia for natural beauty, contrasting the speaker’s former genuine acclaim with her current reliance on purchased beauty.
Me miserum! lacrimas male continet oraque dextra
protegit ingenuas picta rubore genas.
sustinet antiquos gremio spectatque capillos,
ei mihi, non illo munera digna loco!
Collige cum vultu mentem! reparabile damnum est.
postmodo nativa conspiciere coma.
Wretched me! She barely contains her tears and with her right hand covers her noble cheeks, painted with redness. She holds her former hair in her lap and gazes at it—alas for me, gifts not worthy of that place! Collect your mind along with your expression! The damage can be repaired. Soon you will be admired with your natural hair.
This intimate scene captures a moment of private grief over lost beauty, focusing on the distinct Roman preoccupation with hair as a marker of feminine allure. The woman’s ingenuas genas (“noble cheeks”) emphasizes her status as a freeborn Roman woman, for whom maintaining appearance was a social obligation, not mere vanity. The image of her holding her cut hair in her lap suggests she may have kept it after it was removed—a practice attested in Roman sources, where women sometimes preserved their hair as mementos or dedicated it to deities.
The speaker’s consolation that the damage is “reparabile” reflects the Roman reality of widely available hair pieces and wigs. The promise that she will be admired for her “natural hair” (nativa coma) in the future suggests either that her hair will grow back or that she will obtain such convincing artificial hair that it will appear natural—both common solutions to hair loss in Roman society. The emphasis on “natural” beauty was a common literary trope, even though artificial enhancement was widespread in practice.
The physical gestures described—covering the face, holding the hair—follow conventional Roman expressions of grief, showing how even private emotional displays followed cultural scripts. The reference to cheeks “painted with redness” (picta rubore) plays on the double meaning of artificial and natural coloring, as Roman women used rouge but blushing was also considered a sign of modesty and proper feminine behavior.