Ianitor—indignum!—dura religate catena,
difficilem moto cardine pande forem!
quod precor, exiguum est—aditu fac ianua parvo
obliquum capiat semiadaperta latus.
longus amor tales corpus tenuavit in usus
aptaque subducto pondere membra dedit.
O doorkeeper—outrageous!—chained with a harsh chain, open the stubborn door with its turning hinge! What I pray for is small—make it so that the door, half-opened with a narrow entrance, may receive my slanted side. Long love has made my body thin for such purposes and has made my limbs suitable by reducing their weight.
This passage reflects a common scene in Roman love poetry: the excluded lover (exclusus amator) pleading with a doorkeeper. Roman houses of the wealthy had enslaved doorkeepers who controlled access to the house, particularly at night. They were often chained to their post to ensure they stayed awake and performed their duty. The door itself (fores) typically consisted of two leaves that opened inward, and its hinge system (cardo) was quite different from modern doors, usually consisting of vertical pivots at top and bottom rather than side hinges. The speaker’s reference to becoming thin from love is a common poetic trope in Roman love poetry, where the suffering of love was thought to cause physical wasting. The situation described—trying to slip through a barely opened door—points to the clandestine nature of the visit, likely a nighttime romantic rendezvous that would have been socially unacceptable in Roman society.
ille per excubias custodum leniter ire
monstrat: inoffensos derigit ille pedes.
At quondam noctem simulacraque vana timebam;
mirabar, tenebris quisquis iturus erat.
risit, ut audirem, tenera cum matre Cupido
et leviter ‘fies tu quoque fortis’ ait.
He shows how to move softly past the guards’ watch posts: he guides feet to move without stumbling. But once I used to fear the night and its empty phantoms; I used to marvel at anyone who would venture into the darkness. Cupid laughed, with his gentle mother, so that I would hear, and lightly said “You too will become brave.”
Roman beliefs about nighttime and its dangers were deeply rooted in their culture. The darkness was thought to be populated by various supernatural entities, including lemures (ghosts) and other simulacra that could harm the living. This made nighttime travel particularly frightening, especially given the lack of street lighting in ancient cities. The presence of guard posts (excubiae) refers to the Roman practice of posting nightwatchmen, both in private houses and public spaces. These guards served multiple purposes: protecting against thieves, maintaining order, and preventing unauthorized movement after dark. The mention of Cupid (Amor) with his mother Venus (the “tender mother”) is typical of love poetry, where these deities often appear as characters guiding or mocking the poet. The transformation from fearful to brave through love’s influence is a common theme in Roman elegiac poetry, where love is portrayed as a force that changes the lover’s character and behavior.
nec mora, venit amor—non umbras nocte volantis,
non timeo strictas in mea fata manus.
te nimium lentum timeo, tibi blandior uni;
tu, me quo possis perdere, fulmen habes.
Adspice—uti videas, inmitia claustra relaxa—
uda sit ut lacrimis ianua facta meis!
And without delay, love comes—I do not fear shadows flying in the night, nor hands drawn against my fate. You alone I fear, too slow as you are, you alone I flatter; you hold the thunderbolt with which you can destroy me. Look—so that you may see, loosen the cruel barriers—how wet the door has become from my tears!
The text presents a scene from a paraclausithyron—a poetic lament sung by a locked-out lover at his beloved’s door. This was a common motif in Roman love poetry. The reference to “shadows flying in the night” (umbras nocte volantis) reflects Roman beliefs about nocturnal spirits and ghosts that were thought to roam after dark. These were typically feared and associated with death and ill omens. The thunderbolt (fulmen) was traditionally associated with Jupiter’s power to punish mortals, but here it’s metaphorically transferred to the doorkeeper’s authority. The act of wetting the door with tears was a conventional gesture in these doorway scenes, emphasizing the lover’s desperate state and attempting to evoke pity. The contrast between not fearing supernatural threats but fearing the doorkeeper highlights the reversal of normal power relationships that love was thought to cause in Roman poetry.
certe ego, cum posita stares ad verbera veste,
ad dominam pro te verba tremente tuli.
ergo quae valuit pro te quoque gratia quondam—
heu facinus!—pro me nunc valet illa parum?
redde vicem meritis! grato licet esse quod optas.
tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
Surely I, when you stood with your clothing removed for a flogging, trembling, spoke words to the mistress on your behalf. Therefore that influence which once prevailed for you too—alas, what a crime!—now counts for little on my behalf? Repay the favor for my services! You are permitted to be grateful for what you desire. The hours of night are passing; shake the bolt from the doorpost!
The text reveals several aspects of Roman household dynamics. Corporal punishment was common for slaves, administered at the discretion of the domina (mistress) or dominus (master). The speaker appears to have previously intervened to prevent the doorkeeper’s punishment, a common occurrence where slaves might beg other household members to intercede with their owners. The doorkeeper’s position was particularly precarious - they could be severely punished for either allowing unauthorized entry or refusing entry to those with legitimate business. The reference to the door’s bolt (sera) reflects Roman security measures - doors were typically secured with a wooden or metal bar that had to be physically removed, not turned like modern locks. The urgency about passing time (tempora noctis eunt) indicates this is likely a nighttime scene, when unauthorized entry was particularly suspicious and doorkeepers were under greater scrutiny.
Excute! sic, inquam, longa relevere catena,
nec tibi perpetuo serva bibatur aqua!
ferreus orantem nequiquam, ianitor, audis,
roboribus duris ianua fulta riget.
urbibus obsessis clausae munimina portae
prosunt; in media pace quid arma times?
Shake it off! Thus, I say, may you be relieved of your long chain, and may you not forever drink slave’s water! Iron-hearted doorkeeper, you hear my pleading in vain, the door, reinforced with hard oak, stands rigid. Closed gates serve as defenses for besieged cities; why do you fear weapons in the midst of peace?
The passage presents a scene at a Roman doorway where an enslaved doorkeeper (ianitor) guards the entrance. These doorkeepers were typically chained to their post to prevent them from abandoning their duty or falling asleep. The “slave’s water” (serva aqua) refers to the basic rations given to slaves, contrasted with the wine that free persons would drink. The mention of oak reinforcements (robora) reflects actual Roman door construction techniques, where heavy wooden bars and crossbeams were used for security.
The military imagery comparing the house to a besieged city is particularly Roman, drawing on their extensive experience with siege warfare. The speaker’s argument that such defensive measures are unnecessary during peacetime (in media pace) reflects the common tension in Roman society between security and hospitality. The reference to weapons (arma) is likely metaphorical, suggesting that the speaker poses no real threat, only amorous intentions.
quid facies hosti, qui sic excludis amantem?
tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
Non ego militibus venio comitatus et armis;
solus eram, si non saevus adesset Amor.
hunc ego, si cupiam, nusquam dimittere possum;
ante vel a membris dividar ipse meis.
What will you do to an enemy, you who thus shut out a lover? The hours of night are passing; shake the bolt from the doorpost! I do not come accompanied by soldiers and weapons; I would be alone, if cruel Love were not present. Him I cannot send away anywhere, even if I should wish to; sooner would I myself be separated from my own limbs.
This text exemplifies the paraclausithyron, a common motif in Roman love poetry where a locked-out lover pleads before a closed door. The contrast between hostis (enemy) and amans (lover) plays on Roman social expectations, where enemies were to be treated harshly but lovers deserved consideration. The personification of Love (Amor) as a cruel companion draws on the traditional imagery of Cupid as an unrelenting force. The door’s physical components - the bolt (sera) and doorpost (postis) - were significant features of Roman domestic architecture. Doors were secured with heavy wooden or metal bars that had to be physically removed, making the doorkeeper’s role crucial. The mention of soldiers and weapons refers to the reality of armed gangs in Roman cities at night, against which doorkeepers had to guard. The final metaphor of being separated from one’s limbs reflects the Roman concept of love as a force that becomes physically part of the lover, a common theme in Latin love poetry.
ergo Amor et modicum circa mea tempora vinum
mecum est et madidis lapsa corona comis.
arma quis haec timeat? quis non eat obvius illis?
tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
Lentus es: an somnus, qui te male perdat, amantis
verba dat in ventos aure repulsa tua?
Therefore Love and a moderate amount of wine around my temples is with me, and a garland that has slipped from my moistened hair. Who would fear these weapons? Who would not go to meet them? The hours of night are passing; shake the bolt from the doorpost! You are slow: is sleep—may it destroy you!—casting a lover’s words to the winds, rejected by your ear?
Roman dinner parties (convivia) typically ended with participants wearing garlands of flowers and leaves, often rose or myrtle, which were believed to prevent drunkenness when worn around the temples. These garlands, along with perfumes and ointments, would often make the wearer’s hair damp. The reference to “weapons” is ironic - the speaker’s only “arms” are symbols of celebration and love, not actual weapons that a doorkeeper should fear. The scene takes place at night, when Roman streets were dangerous and houses were securely locked. Doorkeepers (ianitores) were often slaves who could be severely punished for letting in unauthorized visitors, which explains their caution. The curse “qui te male perdat” (“may it destroy you”) was a common formula in Latin, especially in comedies and less formal speech. The image of words being “cast to the winds” (dat in ventos) was a frequent metaphor in Latin poetry for speech that goes unheeded.
at, memini, primo, cum te celare volebam,
pervigil in mediae sidera noctis eras.
forsitan et tecum tua nunc requiescit amica—
heu, melior quanto sors tua sorte mea!
dummodo sic, in me durae transite catenae!
tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
But, I remember, at first, when I wanted to hide from you, you were wide awake watching the stars of midnight. Perhaps now your girlfriend is resting with you—alas, how much better is your fate than mine! If only it were so, harsh chains, transfer to me! The hours of night are passing; shake the bolt from the doorpost!
The text provides insight into the complex relationship between house slaves and frequent visitors in Roman society. Doorkeepers (ianitores) were typically chained to their posts at night, a practice that seems cruel to modern readers but was common in Roman households. The reference to watching stars suggests the doorkeeper’s lonely vigil through the night hours, which were marked by observing celestial movements in an age without mechanical timekeeping. The mention of an amica (girlfriend) is particularly interesting, as slaves could form relationships, though these were always subject to their masters’ approval and could be disrupted at any time. The speaker’s wish to take on the doorkeeper’s chains reflects the Roman literary topos of the lover willing to undergo slavery for love’s sake, a common theme in elegiac poetry. This reversal of social roles - a free person envying a slave’s situation - creates irony that Roman audiences would have appreciated.
Fallimur, an verso sonuerunt cardine postes,
raucaque concussae signa dedere fores?
fallimur—inpulsa est animoso ianua vento.
ei mihi, quam longe spem tulit aura meam!
si satis es raptae, Borea, memor Orithyiae,
huc ades et surdas flamine tunde foris!
Are we deceived, or did the doorposts sound with turning hinge, and did the shaken doors give hoarse signals? We are deceived—the door was struck by the spirited wind. Alas for me, how far the breeze has carried my hope! If you remember enough about kidnapped Orithyia, Boreas, come here and beat these deaf doors with your blast!
This passage draws upon both Roman architectural features and mythology. Roman door construction relied on vertical pivots (cardines) rather than modern hinges, which produced distinctive sounds when rotating. The doors of wealthy homes were typically double-leaved (fores) and made of wood reinforced with metal, creating resonant sounds when moved or struck. The mythological reference is to Boreas, the North Wind, who abducted the Athenian princess Orithyia. This myth was well-known to Roman audiences and often appeared in poetry, particularly when poets wanted to emphasize the power of wind or passionate love. The personification of the doors as “deaf” (surdas) is a common poetic device in Roman love poetry, where the locked-out lover (exclusus amator) attributes human qualities to the barriers separating him from his beloved. The emotional progression from hope to disappointment when the sound turns out to be just wind was a standard element in these doorway scenes (paraclausithyra).
urbe silent tota, vitreoque madentia rore
tempora noctis eunt; excute poste seram!
Aut ego iam ferroque ignique paratior ipse,
quem face sustineo, tecta superba petam.
nox et Amor vinumque nihil moderabile suadent;
illa pudore vacat, Liber Amorque metu.
Throughout the silent city, the hours of night, wet with glassy dew, pass by; shake the bolt from the doorpost! Or I myself, better prepared with iron and fire, which I hold in my torch, will attack your proud house. Night and Love and wine suggest nothing moderate; night lacks shame, and Liber and Love lack fear.
Roman cities at night were typically very dark and quiet due to the lack of street lighting and strict regulations about nighttime activities. The mention of “glassy dew” refers to the moisture that typically forms in Mediterranean climates during the night hours. The threat of using fire against the house was particularly serious in Roman cities, where closely-packed wooden buildings made fires extremely dangerous - arson was considered a capital crime. The reference to Liber (another name for Bacchus/Dionysus) alongside Amor (Cupid) represents the dangerous combination of wine and love, both seen as forces that remove normal social restraints. The torch (fax) mentioned would have been made of bound reeds or wood soaked in pitch or oil, common for nighttime illumination but also potentially a weapon. The “proud house” (tecta superba) suggests a wealthy residence, which would have had significant security measures including strong doors, locks, and enslaved doorkeepers. The triad of night, love, and wine removing moderation and fear was a common theme in Roman poetry, reflecting real social concerns about nighttime disorder and young men’s behavior.
omnia consumpsi, nec te precibusque minisque
movimus, o foribus durior ipse tuis.
non te formosae decuit servare puellae
limina, sollicito carcere dignus eras.
Iamque pruinosus molitur Lucifer axes,
inque suum miseros excitat ales opus.
I have exhausted everything, and neither with prayers nor threats have I moved you, you who are yourself harder than your doors. It was not fitting for you to guard a beautiful girl’s threshold - you deserved an anxious prison. And now frosty Lucifer sets his axles in motion, and the rooster rouses the wretched to their work.
The speaker has spent the entire night attempting to gain entry, a common situation in Roman love poetry where lovers would plead before closed doors (paraclausithyron). The doorkeeper’s position required constant vigilance, as they could be severely punished for either allowing unauthorized entry or refusing legitimate visitors. The reference to being “harder than the doors” plays on the Roman practice of reinforcing doors with metal, making them particularly solid and impenetrable.
The morning star Lucifer (the planet Venus) was an important timekeeper in the ancient world, appearing before dawn. Its description as “frosty” (pruinosus) reflects the cold pre-dawn hours. The poetic image of Lucifer’s chariot wheels (axes) draws on the common ancient conception of celestial bodies as divine beings riding chariots across the sky. The rooster’s role in marking dawn was crucial in Roman life, especially for urban workers and slaves who needed to begin their daily tasks. The term “miseros” (wretched ones) particularly refers to those who must work for their living, contrasting with the leisured classes who could sleep later.
at tu, non laetis detracta corona capillis,
dura super tota limina nocte iace!
tu dominae, cum te proiectam mane videbit,
temporis absumpti tam male testis eris.
Qualiscumque vale sentique abeuntis honorem;
lente nec admisso turpis amante, vale!
But you, garland torn from my unhappy hair, lie hard upon the threshold all night long! You will be a witness to my mistress, when she sees you cast down in the morning, of time so badly wasted. Whatever your state, farewell and feel the respect of one departing; farewell, you who are shameful for being slow and not admitting a lover!
The garland (corona) mentioned in the text was a typical accessory worn by revelers at Roman dinner parties and celebrations. Made typically of flowers, leaves, or ivy, these garlands were believed to help prevent drunkenness and were symbols of festivity. The practice of leaving objects at a lover’s threshold was part of the paraclausithyron tradition, where excluded lovers would leave tokens of their presence. The threshold (limen) had special significance in Roman culture, being considered a liminal space with religious associations, protected by the god Limentinus.
The morning discovery scenario described reflects the Roman urban setting where evidence of nighttime activities would be visible to household members emerging at dawn. The text’s final curse combining “farewell” (vale) with insults is characteristic of Roman invective, where formal language of departure could be subverted for emotional effect. The references to wasted time (temporis absumpti) and the unresponsive door (lente… turpis) reflect common complaints in Roman love poetry about the cruel practice of excluding lovers, which was both a literary topos and a real social phenomenon in upper-class Roman society.
vos quoque, crudeles rigido cum limine postes
duraque conservae ligna, valete, fores!
You too, cruel doorposts with your hard threshold, and you doors with your harsh timbers, companions in slavery, farewell!
The farewell address to doors and doorposts reflects the Roman practice of personifying architectural elements, particularly in love poetry. The description of the doors as “fellow slaves” (conservae) is a sophisticated play on words - while literally referring to the wooden components being bound together in service, it also alludes to the enslaved doorkeeper who would have been chained to their post. Roman doors were typically made of wooden planks reinforced with metal bands, mounted on vertical posts (postes) that turned in sockets cut into the threshold (limen) and lintel. The threshold itself held religious significance, protected by the god Limentinus, and was often made of stone or marble in wealthy homes. This elevated threshold served both practical purposes (keeping out rainwater) and symbolic ones (marking the boundary between public and private space). The entire doorway assembly was seen as a unified entity, which explains the plural address (vos) to its components.