Adde manus in vincla meas—meruere catenas—
dum furor omnis abit, siquis amicus ades!
nam furor in dominam temeraria bracchia movit;
flet mea vaesana laesa puella manu.
tunc ego vel caros potui violare parentes
saeva vel in sanctos verbera ferre deos!
Put my hands in chains—they deserve their shackles—while all my madness departs, if you are present as a friend! For madness moved reckless arms against my mistress; my girl weeps, hurt by my frenzied hand. Then I could have even violated my dear parents or brought savage blows against the sacred gods!
The passage reflects the intense emotions associated with Roman love poetry, particularly the concept of love as a form of madness or disease (furor). The speaker’s self-condemnation and request for restraint demonstrates the Roman literary topos of lovers losing control of themselves. The reference to domina (“mistress”) is characteristic of elegiac poetry, where the beloved woman is portrayed as superior to and dominant over the male lover.
The mention of violence against parents and gods represents the ultimate taboo in Roman society, where pietas (duty) toward family and gods was a fundamental virtue. Physical violence against a woman, while not uncommon in Roman society, is presented here as a source of shame and regret, suggesting either evolving social attitudes or the special status of the beloved in love poetry. The chains (vincula) mentioned would have been metal fetters, commonly used for restraining prisoners or slaves in Roman times.
Quid? non et clipei dominus septemplicis Aiax
stravit deprensos lata per arva greges,
et, vindex in matre patris, malus ultor, Orestes
ausus in arcanas poscere tela deas?
ergo ego digestos potui laniare capillos?
nec dominam motae dedecuere comae.
sic formosa fuit.
What? Did not Ajax, master of the seven-layered shield, lay low the herds caught across the broad fields, and did not Orestes, avenger of his father against his mother, that wicked revenger, dare to demand weapons against the mysterious goddesses? So could I tear my well-arranged hair? Yet disheveled hair did not ill-become my mistress. Thus beautiful was she.
This passage references two famous episodes from Greek mythology. Ajax, one of the greatest Greek warriors at Troy, went mad with rage when Achilles’ armor was awarded to Odysseus instead of him. In his madness, he slaughtered a flock of sheep, believing them to be his enemies. His shield was famously made of seven layers of ox-hide, making it nearly impenetrable.
The second reference is to Orestes, son of Agamemnon, who avenged his father’s murder by killing his own mother Clytemnestra. After this matricide, he was pursued by the Furies (the “mysterious goddesses” referred to in the text), divine beings who punished familial crimes. The term “malus ultor” (wicked avenger) reflects the ambiguous nature of his deed - justified but horrific.
The speaker uses these mythological examples of extreme behavior to justify what seems to be a much more minor act of passionate distress - the tearing of hair, which was a traditional expression of grief or extreme emotion in classical antiquity. The final lines suggest this display of emotion actually enhanced his mistress’s beauty, a typical paradox in Latin love poetry.
talem Schoeneida dicam
Maenalias arcu sollicitasse feras;
talis periuri promissaque velaque Thesei
flevit praecipites Cressa tulisse Notos;
sic, nisi vittatis quod erat Cassandra capillis,
procubuit templo, casta Minerva, tuo.
Such was Atalanta, I would say, who harassed the Maenalian beasts with her bow; such was the Cretan maiden who wept that the swift South winds had carried away the promises and sails of faithless Theseus; thus did Cassandra fall before your temple, chaste Minerva, except that her hair was bound with ribbons.
This passage weaves together three mythological exempla of maidens. Atalanta, daughter of Schoeneus, was a famous huntress who roamed the mountains of Maenalus in Arcadia. The “Cretan maiden” refers to Ariadne, who helped Theseus escape the labyrinth after killing the Minotaur, only to be abandoned by him on the island of Naxos. According to legend, Theseus promised to marry her but sailed away while she slept, his ships driven by the South winds (Noti).
The final reference is to Cassandra, the Trojan princess and priestess of Apollo who was assaulted by Ajax the Lesser in Minerva’s temple during the fall of Troy. The detail about her vittae (ritual headbands) emphasizes her sacred status as a priestess, making the violation even more egregious. The temple mentioned is the temple of Athena (Minerva) in Troy, where Cassandra had sought sanctuary.
Quis mihi non ‘demens!’ quis non mihi ‘barbare!’ dixit?
ipsa nihil; pavido est lingua retenta metu.
sed taciti fecere tamen convicia vultus;
egit me lacrimis ore silente reum.
ante meos umeris vellem cecidisse lacertos;
utiliter potui parte carere mei.
Who did not call me ‘madman!’ who did not call me ‘barbarian!’? She herself said nothing; her tongue was held back by fearful dread. Yet her silent face made accusations; with tears, though her mouth was silent, she made me guilty. I wish my arms had fallen from my shoulders before; I could have usefully done without that part of myself.
This emotionally charged scene depicts a moment of silent accusation and guilt, drawing on Roman courtroom imagery. The term “reus” specifically refers to someone accused in a legal context, while “barbarus” was a loaded term in Roman society, originally referring to non-Greek speakers but evolving to mean “uncivilized” or “crude.” The physical gesture of wishing one’s arms would fall off is a type of self-curse common in Latin poetry, expressing extreme remorse or regret. The idea of being able to “do without a part of oneself” reflects the Roman concept of corpus (body) as divisible into functional parts, each carrying moral and social significance. The contrast between spoken accusations from others and the silent but powerful condemnation from the woman creates a particularly Roman type of dramatic tension, where silent judgment could be more damning than verbal reproach.
in mea vaesanas habui dispendia vires
et valui poenam fortis in ipse meam.
quid mihi vobiscum, caedis scelerumque ministrae?
debita sacrilegae vincla subite manus!
an, si pulsassem minimum de plebe Quiritem,
plecterer—in dominam ius mihi maius erit?
I had mad strength for my own destruction, and I, brave man, had power for my own punishment. What have I to do with you, servants of murder and crimes? Bear the bonds you deserve, sacrilegious hands! Why, if I had struck the lowest of the Roman citizens, I would be punished—shall I have greater right against my mistress?
The speaker engages with fundamental aspects of Roman law and social hierarchy. The reference to “Quirites” specifically invokes Roman citizenship, a privileged legal status that protected individuals from arbitrary violence. Even striking the lowest-ranked citizen (de plebe) would result in legal consequences. The poem touches on the complex relationship between social classes in Roman society.
The mention of “domina” (mistress) places this in the context of Roman love poetry, where the beloved woman is often addressed as domina, creating an ironic inversion of normal social hierarchies where the male citizen would typically be dominant. The reference to “sacrilegious hands” suggests a violation of something sacred, reflecting how Romans viewed certain relationships as having religious as well as social significance.
pessima Tydides scelerum monimenta reliquit.
ille deam primus perculit—alter ego!
et minus ille nocens. mihi, quam profitebar amare
laesa est; Tydides saevus in hoste fuit.
I nunc, magnificos victor molire triumphos,
cinge comam lauro votaque redde Iovi,
The son of Tydeus left behind the worst monuments of crimes. He was the first to strike a goddess—I am the second! And he was less guilty: the one I professed to love has been wounded by me; Tydeus’ son was fierce against an enemy. Go now, victor, build magnificent triumphs, crown your hair with laurel and fulfill your vows to Jupiter.
The speaker draws a parallel between himself and Diomedes (Tydides), a Greek hero from the Trojan War. Diomedes was famous for wounding Aphrodite/Venus when she tried to protect her son Aeneas on the battlefield - an unprecedented act of violence against a deity. The laurel crown was a symbol of victory in Roman culture, traditionally worn during triumphs - elaborate victory processions through Rome. Jupiter, as chief deity of the Roman pantheon, received vows before battle that had to be fulfilled upon victory. The bitter, self-recriminating tone suggests the speaker regrets harming someone close to him, seeing his actions as worse than Diomedes’ since they affected a loved one rather than an enemy. The final lines drip with sarcasm, undermining the traditional symbols of victory by suggesting they’re hollow in light of the personal cost.
quaeque tuos currus comitantum turba sequetur,
clamet ‘io! forti victa puella viro est!’
ante eat effuso tristis captiva capillo,
si sinerent laesae, candida tota, genae.
aptius impressis fuerat livere labellis
et collum blandi dentis habere notam.
And may the crowd of followers that accompanies your chariot shout “Hurrah! The girl has been conquered by a strong man!” Let the sad captive walk before it with disheveled hair - she would be all pale, if her bruised cheeks allowed it. It would have been more fitting for her to be bruised by pressed lips and for her neck to bear the mark of a caressing tooth.
This passage describes a Roman triumph, a ceremonial procession granted to victorious generals, but recast in erotic terms. The imagery blends military and amatory conquest, a common trope in Roman love poetry. The triumphator’s chariot would be followed by crowds shouting ritual acclamations, while captured enemies would walk in chains before it. The ritualistic cry “io!” was a common expression of joy or triumph in Latin.
The description of the captive’s appearance plays with conventional signs of both mourning and erotic attraction in Roman culture. Disheveled hair was associated with mourning, while pallor was considered a sign of beauty in women. The marks of passionate love-bites (suggillationes in Latin) were a common motif in erotic poetry, representing both passion and possession. The poet subverts the violence of military victory by suggesting that amatory “wounds” would be more appropriate than actual physical harm.
denique, si tumidi ritu torrentis agebar,
caecaque me praedam fecerat ira suam,
nonne satis fuerat timidae inclamasse puellae,
nec nimium rigidas intonuisse minas,
aut tunicam a summa diducere turpiter ora
ad mediam?—mediae zona tulisset opem.
Finally, if I was being driven like a swollen torrent, and blind rage had made me its prey, wouldn’t it have been enough to have shouted at the frightened girl, and not to have thundered excessively harsh threats, or shamefully to have torn her tunic from the top edge to the middle? The girdle would have provided resistance at the middle.
This passage reflects the complex dynamics of Roman sexuality and violence. The zona was a belt or girdle worn by Roman women around their tunic at the waist, and it carried strong symbolic significance. For unmarried women, it represented their virginity - the untying of the zona was a metaphor for loss of virginity, traditionally occurring on the wedding night. The speaker is describing an attempted sexual assault but appears to be presenting it as a lesser evil compared to what could have happened, a troubling reflection of Roman attitudes toward sexual violence. The mention of the “timida puella” (frightened girl) is a common trope in Roman love poetry, where the power dynamic between male aggressor and female object of desire is often explicitly portrayed. The metaphor of the torrent (torrens) draws on a common poetic device comparing passion to natural forces.
At nunc sustinui raptis a fronte capillis
ferreus ingenuas ungue notare genas.
adstitit illa amens albo et sine sanguine vultu,
caeduntur Pariis qualia saxa iugis.
exanimis artus et membra trementia vidi—
ut cum populeas ventilat aura comas,
But now I, cruel one, endured to mark her innocent cheeks with my nail, after seizing her hair from her forehead. She stood there, distraught, with a face white and bloodless, like marble blocks that are cut in the Parian mountains. I saw her lifeless limbs and trembling body—just as when a breeze stirs the leaves of poplar trees,
This vivid scene depicts physical violence against a woman, reflecting the sometimes brutal reality of Roman personal relationships. The reference to Parian marble is significant - Paros was a Greek island famous throughout antiquity for its pure white marble, used in the finest sculptures. The comparison of pale skin to marble was a common poetic trope, though here it takes on a more disturbing aspect as it describes fear rather than beauty. The poplar tree (populus) was sacred to Hercules in Roman mythology, and its trembling leaves were often used as a poetic image for fear or agitation. The detail of marking someone’s face with nails suggests a domestic violence scenario that, while disturbing to modern readers, was not uncommon in ancient Rome where women had few legal protections against such abuse.
ut leni Zephyro gracilis vibratur harundo,
summave cum tepido stringitur unda Noto;
suspensaeque diu lacrimae fluxere per ora,
qualiter abiecta de nive manat aqua.
tunc ego me primum coepi sentire nocentem—
sanguis erant lacrimae, quas dabat illa, meus.
As a slender reed quivers in the gentle West Wind, or as the surface of the water is ruffled by the warm South Wind; so tears, long held back, flowed down her face, just as water trickles from melting snow. Then I first began to feel myself guilty—those tears she shed were my blood.
This elegiac passage employs typical Roman poetic devices, particularly the extended simile comparing emotional states to natural phenomena. Zephyrus (the West Wind) and Notus (the South Wind) were important wind deities in classical mythology. The West Wind was generally considered gentle and favorable, while the South Wind brought warm air from Africa.
The imagery of reeds bending in the wind would have been familiar to Roman readers who lived near rivers and marshlands. The comparison of tears to melting snow reflects the Roman understanding of Alpine and mountain environments, where seasonal melting was a regular occurrence. The final metaphor linking tears to blood is a powerful expression of guilt and emotional pain, drawing on the ancient Mediterranean conception of blood as the seat of life and emotion.
The sophisticated structure moves from nature (winds, reeds, water) to human emotion, following a common pattern in Latin love poetry where the natural world mirrors human feelings.
ter tamen ante pedes volui procumbere supplex;
ter formidatas reppulit illa manus.
At tu ne dubita—minuet vindicta dolorem—
protinus in vultus unguibus ire meos.
nec nostris oculis nec nostris parce capillis:
quamlibet infirmas adiuvat ira manus;
Three times I wanted to fall suppliant before her feet; three times she pushed away my dreaded hands. But you, do not hesitate—revenge will lessen the pain—to immediately attack my face with your nails. Do not spare my eyes nor my hair: anger strengthens even the weakest hands.
This passage reflects several aspects of Roman social and literary conventions. The act of falling suppliant (procumbere supplex) was a formal gesture of extreme submission, where one would literally fall at another’s feet. This gesture had both social and religious significance in Roman culture. The threefold repetition (ter… ter) is a common literary device that appears frequently in Latin poetry, often carrying ritual or magical associations.
The violence described is characteristic of Roman love poetry, where physical abuse between lovers was a common literary motif, though not necessarily reflecting real social practices. The specific mention of attacking with nails (unguibus) refers to a standard element in Roman depictions of lovers’ quarrels, particularly associated with women’s reactions to infidelity. The focus on the face, eyes, and hair as targets demonstrates their importance in Roman concepts of beauty and dignity—damaging these features was considered particularly shameful and emotionally charged.
neve mei sceleris tam tristia signa supersint,
pone recompositas in statione comas!
And let not such sad signs of my crime remain, put back your rearranged hair in its proper place!
The passage reveals intimate details about Roman grooming customs and social expectations. Hair arrangement was a crucial aspect of Roman appearance, especially for women. Elite Roman women would spend considerable time arranging their hair in elaborate styles, often with the help of ornatrices (female slaves specialized in hairdressing). For hair to be “recomposita” (rearranged) implies it had been disturbed from its careful arrangement, which could be seen as evidence of intimate activity - hence the reference to a “crime” (scelus). The concern about visible signs of such activity reflects Roman society’s emphasis on the appearance of propriety, particularly for women of status. The word “statio” metaphorically applying to hairstyle shows how proper arrangement of hair was considered its natural and correct state, much like a soldier at his post.