Vir tuus est epulas nobis aditurus easdem—
ultima coena tuo sit, precor, illa viro!
ergo ego dilectam tantum conviva puellam
adspiciam? tangi quem iuvet, alter erit,
alteriusque sinus apte subiecta fovebis?
iniciet collo, cum volet, ille manum?
Your husband is going to attend the same feast as we are—I pray that feast be the last meal for your husband! So shall I, as a dinner guest, only look at my beloved girl? Will it be another who enjoys touching you, and will you, properly reclining, warm another’s lap? Will he place his hand on your neck whenever he wishes?
This passage reflects the Roman custom of reclining at formal dinners (convivia), where guests would lie on couches (triclinia) arranged around three sides of a table. Dining posture was quite intimate - guests would recline on their left sides, with their heads toward the table and feet extending away. Each couch typically held three people, who would lean on their left elbows with their bodies angled slightly towards the person “below” them.
The speaker’s frustration stems from the social conventions of these dinner parties, where married women would often recline next to their husbands or other men, creating opportunities for physical proximity that could be either innocent or flirtatious. The reference to placing a hand on the neck was particularly charged, as such gestures during dinner parties could signal romantic or sexual interest while maintaining plausible deniability within the bounds of social etiquette.
The passage captures the tension between public social interaction and private romantic desires that was characteristic of Roman love poetry, particularly in the context of elite dinner parties where social, political, and romantic relationships often intersected.
desino mirari, posito quod candida vino
Atracis ambiguos traxit in arma viros.
nec mihi silva domus, nec equo mea membra cohaerent—
vix a te videor posse tenere manus!
Quae tibi sint facienda tamen cognosce, nec Euris
da mea nec tepidis verba ferenda Notis!
I cease to wonder that the fair Atrax maiden, when wine was served, drew ambiguous men into battle. My home is not the forest, nor do my limbs join with a horse - yet I seem barely able to keep my hands off you! Nevertheless, learn what you must do, and do not give my words to be carried away by the East winds or the warm South winds!
The text alludes to the famous mythological story of the Centauromachy - the battle between the Lapiths and Centaurs at the wedding feast of Pirithous and Hippodamia. Hippodamia (here referred to as “Atracis” from her homeland in Thessaly) was the indirect cause of this battle when the centaurs, inflamed by wine at the wedding feast, attempted to carry off the bride and other women.
The speaker draws a contrast between himself and the centaurs by noting he is neither a forest-dweller nor half-horse (the defining characteristics of centaurs), yet still feels violent passion. This comparison with mythological beings was a common poetic device in Roman love poetry to express the power of erotic desire.
The final couplet employs the common motif of winds as carriers of messages or secrets. Both Eurus and Notus were considered warm winds by the Romans - Notus especially was associated with the warm, moist air from Africa. The instruction not to let words be carried by these winds is a plea for discretion and secrecy in love matters.
ante veni, quam vir—nec quid, si veneris ante,
possit agi video; sed tamen ante veni.
cum premet ille torum, vultu comes ipsa modesto
ibis, ut accumbas—clam mihi tange pedem!
me specta nutusque meos vultumque loquacem;
excipe furtivas et refer ipsa notas.
Come before your husband—though I don’t see what could be done if you come before, still come before him. When he presses down on the dining couch, you yourself will go as his companion with modest expression, to recline—secretly touch my foot! Watch me and my nods and my speaking face; catch my furtive signals and return them yourself.
This passage describes intimate interactions at a Roman dinner party (convivium). Dining was done in a reclining position on couches (triclinia) arranged around three sides of a table. Married couples often attended together, with wives typically reclining next to their husbands. The strict social etiquette required women to maintain a modest demeanor (vultus modestus).
The secret communication described—foot-touching, meaningful glances, and subtle gestures—represents a common theme in Roman love poetry: the coded language of lovers in public settings. Such nonverbal signals (notae) allowed for flirtation while maintaining social propriety. The physical arrangement of dining couches made such clandestine exchanges possible, as diners would be in close proximity but not always in direct line of sight of all other guests.
The urgency of arriving before the husband suggests careful timing to arrange favorable seating positions, as the placement of guests at Roman dinner parties followed complex social protocols that could either facilitate or hinder such intimate exchanges.
verba superciliis sine voce loquentia dicam;
verba leges digitis, verba notata mero.
cum tibi succurret Veneris lascivia nostrae,
purpureas tenero pollice tange genas.
siquid erit, de me tacita quod mente queraris,
pendeat extrema mollis ab aure manus.
I will speak words that talk without voice through eyebrows; you will read words with fingers, words marked in wine. When the playfulness of our love comes to your mind, touch your purple cheeks with a tender thumb. If there is anything you complain about me in your silent mind, let your soft hand hang from the tip of your ear.
Roman dining parties featured elaborate systems of nonverbal communication between lovers. Writing messages in wine on the table with a finger was a common practice, as was the use of meaningful gestures. The Romans had a sophisticated code of body language where subtle movements of eyebrows, hands, or touching specific body parts could convey complex messages.
The purple or blushing cheeks (purpureas genas) reference both the physical effects of wine and emotional states. Romans considered blushing a sign of modesty in women, making it both attractive and socially appropriate. The gesture of touching one’s ear was a recognized signal in Roman body language, though its exact meaning could vary by context.
The poem describes a sophisticated courtship ritual playing out within the strict social constraints of a Roman dinner party, where direct verbal communication between potential lovers would have been inappropriate or impossible. These coded signals allowed romantic intrigue to develop while maintaining the appearance of proper social decorum.
cum tibi, quae faciam, mea lux, dicamve, placebunt,
versetur digitis anulus usque tuis.
tange manu mensam, tangunt quo more precantes,
optabis merito cum mala multa viro.
Quod tibi miscuerit, sapias, bibat ipse, iubeto;
tu puerum leviter posce, quod ipsa voles.
When whatever I do or say pleases you, my light, keep turning the ring on your fingers continuously. Touch the table with your hand, in the way that those praying touch it, when you will wish many evils upon your deserving husband. Whatever he mixes for you, be wise, order that he drink it himself; you gently ask the slave-boy for what you yourself want.
The text describes secret signals and protective measures during a Roman dining party (convivium). The turning of rings was a common nervous gesture that could be adapted as a covert signal between lovers. The touching of tables had religious significance - Romans would touch or knock on tables to avert evil omens or invoke divine protection, similar to modern wooden table-knocking.
Wine at Roman dinner parties was always mixed with water in specific proportions, usually by the host or a designated mixer (miscere). The warning about drinking suggests concern about poisoning, which was not uncommon in Roman society. Slaves (pueri) served at these gatherings, and it was normal to make requests through them rather than reaching for items oneself.
The mention of wishing evil on a husband reflects the sometimes dark undertones of Roman love poetry, where rivals (especially husbands) were often wished ill through various magical or religious imprecations. The entire passage demonstrates the complex interplay of public dining customs, secret communication, and potential danger that characterized elite Roman social gatherings.
quae tu reddideris ego primus pocula sumam,
et, qua tu biberis, hac ego parte bibam.
si tibi forte dabit, quod praegustaverit ipse,
reice libatos illius ore cibos.
nec premar inpositis sinito tua colla lacertis,
mite nec in rigido pectore pone caput;
I will be the first to take up the cups that you return, and I will drink from the same part from which you have drunk. If by chance he gives you what he himself has tasted first, reject the food that has been sampled by his mouth. Don’t allow your neck to be pressed by his embracing arms, and don’t rest your gentle head against his hard chest.
Roman dining customs involved intimate physical proximity between guests who reclined on couches. Sharing drinks was common practice, with guests often drinking from the same cup or from the same spot on a cup’s rim. This had both social and erotic implications. The practice of praegustatio (pre-tasting of food and drink) was common, especially among elite Romans, partly as a precaution against poisoning.
The mention of embracing and reclining against another’s chest refers to typical positioning at Roman dinner parties (convivia). Diners would recline on their left sides, often leaning against each other, which could create intimate situations. The contrast between mitis and rigidus employs common Roman poetic imagery associating hardness with masculinity and softness with femininity.
The entire passage reveals anxiety about physical intimacy between dinner companions, especially regarding a romantic rival. The speaker’s desire to drink from the same spot on the cup as his beloved reflects a common motif in Roman love poetry - indirect kissing through shared vessels.
nec sinus admittat digitos habilesve papillae;
oscula praecipue nulla dedisse velis!
oscula si dederis, fiam manifestus amator
et dicam ‘mea sunt!’ iniciamque manum.
Haec tamen adspiciam, sed quae bene pallia celant,
illa mihi caeci causa timoris erunt.
And let neither your lap admit fingers nor your responsive breasts; above all, may you not wish to give any kisses! If you give kisses, I will become a manifest lover and will say “These are mine!” and will lay my hand upon you. Yet I will watch these things, but those things which the cloak well conceals will be a cause of blind fear for me.
Roman dining customs created opportunities for intimate contact that needed careful management in public settings. The pallium was a Greek-style cloak adopted by Romans, often worn draped over other garments, particularly at dinner parties. It could conceal intimate gestures while simultaneously creating anxiety about hidden actions.
The language of possession (“mea sunt”) reflects Roman attitudes about sexual relationships, where lovers could claim ownership over their partner’s body. The term “manifestus amator” has legal undertones - being “caught in the act” could have serious social and legal consequences, especially involving married women.
The reference to becoming “manifest” speaks to the Roman preoccupation with public reputation and the need to maintain appearances. Private intimacy at public gatherings was a common theme in Roman love poetry, reflecting real social tensions between desire and decorum in elite society.
nec femori committe femur nec crure cohaere
nec tenerum duro cum pede iunge pedem.
multa miser timeo, quia feci multa proterve,
exemplique metu torqueor, ecce, mei.
saepe mihi dominaeque meae properata voluptas
veste sub iniecta dulce peregit opus.
Do not join thigh with thigh nor cling together with leg, nor join your tender foot with his hard foot. Wretched, I fear many things, because I have done many things boldly, and behold, I am tormented by fear of my own example. Often hasty pleasure between me and my mistress accomplished its sweet work beneath thrown-on clothing.
Physical intimacy at Roman dinner parties involved guests reclining on dining couches (triclinia) in close proximity. The positioning of diners—lying on their left sides, often with legs extended—created opportunities for discrete physical contact between participants. The reference to feet touching was particularly charged in Roman culture, where such contact could serve as a covert signal of romantic or erotic interest.
The phrase “domina mea” is a conventional way for Roman love poets to refer to their mistress or beloved, often implying both emotional attachment and social power dynamics. The hurried encounters “beneath thrown-on clothing” (sub veste iniecta) refers to quick, clandestine sexual encounters, possibly at such dinner parties or other social gatherings where full privacy was not available.
The speaker’s anxiety about past indiscretions reflects real social and legal risks in Roman society, where adultery could have serious consequences, especially after Augustus’ moral legislation. His fear of setting a bad example (exempli mei) suggests concern that others might use his own past behavior to justify similar actions with his current love interest.
hoc tu non facies; sed, ne fecisse puteris,
conscia de tergo pallia deme tuo.
vir bibat usque roga—precibus tamen oscula desint!—
dumque bibit, furtim si potes, adde merum.
si bene conpositus somno vinoque iacebit,
consilium nobis resque locusque dabunt.
You will not do this; but, lest you be thought to have done it, remove the telling cloak from your back. Keep asking your husband to drink—though let there be no kisses with your requests!—and while he drinks, secretly add unmixed wine, if you can. If he lies well-settled with sleep and wine, circumstances and location will give us our plan.
Wine consumption at Roman dinner parties followed strict protocols. Wine was normally diluted with water in specific proportions, typically three parts water to one part wine. Serving merum (unmixed wine) was considered dangerous and uncivilized by Roman standards, as it could lead to rapid intoxication. The Greeks and Romans associated unmixed wine with barbaric customs.
The pallium was a Greek-style cloak adopted by Romans for formal dining. Its arrangement could reveal or suggest intimate contact between dining companions, hence the advice to remove it to avoid suspicion. At formal dinners, guests would recline on couches, making the management of clothing particularly important for maintaining decorum.
The practice of encouraging drinking through repeated requests was common at Roman convivia (dinner parties), though it could be seen as suspicious behavior, especially from a wife to her husband. The mention of kisses with requests suggests a form of manipulation that would have been recognized as inappropriate in Roman society, where public displays of affection between married couples were generally discouraged.
cum surges abitura domum, surgemus et omnes,
in medium turbae fac memor agmen eas.
agmine me invenies aut invenieris in illo;
quidquid ibi poteris tangere, tange, mei.
Me miserum! monui, paucas quod prosit in horas;
separor a domina nocte iubente mea.
When you rise about to go home, we shall all rise too, remember to walk in the middle of the crowd’s column. In that column you will find me or be found by me; whatever of me you can touch there, touch it. Wretched me! I have given advice that helps for only a few hours; I am separated from my mistress as night commands.
The text describes the end of a Roman dinner party (convivium), when guests would depart together. Social custom dictated that elite Romans, especially after evening gatherings, would travel home in groups with slaves carrying torches for light and protection. This created a moving crowd (agmen) through the dark streets.
The mention of touching in a crowd reflects the physical intimacy possible during these departures, when the confusion and darkness could provide cover for lovers’ contact. The urban setting of Rome was notorious for its crowded, narrow streets where physical proximity was unavoidable.
The separation enforced by nightfall (nocte iubente) reflects both practical concerns - the dangers of Rome after dark - and poetic convention, where night often appears as an adversary to lovers. The term “domina” is characteristic of Roman love poetry, where the beloved woman is portrayed as having power over the male speaker, regardless of their actual social status.
nocte vir includet, lacrimis ego maestus obortis,
qua licet, ad saevas prosequar usque fores.
oscula iam sumet, iam non tantum oscula sumet:
quod mihi das furtim, iure coacta dabis.
verum invita dato—potes hoc—similisque coactae;
blanditiae taceant, sitque maligna Venus.
At night your husband will lock you in, while I, sad with welling tears, will follow you as far as I may to the cruel doors. Soon he will take kisses, soon he will take not just kisses: what you give to me secretly, you will give to him under compulsion of law. Yet give unwillingly—you can do this—and like one forced; let endearments be silent, and let Venus be ungenerous.
Roman marriage customs gave husbands considerable control over their wives’ movements. The legal right of a husband to sexual relations with his wife (ius) is contrasted with the furtive encounters of illicit love. The doors (fores) represent both literal and metaphorical barriers between lovers, a common motif in Roman love poetry.
The mention of Venus refers not just to the goddess of love but to sexual relations themselves, using the common poetic device of metonymy. The suggestion that Venus be “maligna” (ungenerous) represents a form of passive resistance within marriage - while a wife could not legally refuse relations, she could withhold emotional engagement.
The scene depicts the end of a dinner party, when a wife would return home under her husband’s authority. Roman houses were typically secured at night, with women’s movements particularly restricted. The escort to the doors reflects both social custom and the lover’s desperate attempt to maintain contact until the last possible moment.
si mea vota valent, illum quoque ne iuvet, opto;
si minus, at certe te iuvet inde nihil.
sed quaecumque tamen noctem fortuna sequetur,
cras mihi constanti voce dedisse nega!
If my prayers have power, I wish that it may not please him either; if not, then at least may you get no pleasure from it. But whatever fortune follows the night, tomorrow deny to me with a steady voice that you gave yourself [to him]!
The text reflects Roman attitudes about sexual jealousy and infidelity, particularly in the context of extramarital affairs. The morning-after denial (cras…nega) was a common theme in Roman love poetry, where lovers were expected to maintain plausible deniability about their encounters. This was especially important given the severe legal penalties for adultery under Augustus’ moral legislation.
The reference to vota (prayers or wishes) suggests a quasi-religious element to the lover’s desires. Romans regularly made vows to gods about their love affairs, sometimes inscribing them on temple walls or writing them on tablets. The emphasis on pleasure (iuvare) reflects the Roman poetic tradition’s frank discussion of sexual enjoyment, while also highlighting the speaker’s wish to deny pleasure to both parties out of jealousy.
The request for a “steady voice” (constanti voce) in denial points to the importance of maintaining composure and convincing performance in Roman social interactions, where reputation and appearance were crucial to social standing.