Est quaedam—quicumque volet cognoscere lenam,
audiat!—est quaedam nomine Dipsas anus.
ex re nomen habet—nigri non illa parentem
Memnonis in roseis sobria vidit equis.
illa magas artes Aeaeaque carmina novit
inque caput liquidas arte recurvat aquas;
There is a certain woman—whoever wants to know about a procuress, listen!—there is a certain old woman named Dipsas. She has her name from fact—she has never seen the parent of black Memnon on his rosy horses while sober. She knows magical arts and Aeaean spells, and by her skill makes liquid waters flow backward to their source.
This passage introduces a character who embodies several important elements of Roman social and literary culture. The name “Dipsas” is a speaking name (nomen loquens) meaning “thirsty one,” suggesting she is an alcoholic who never sees Dawn (described here through reference to Memnon’s mother, Aurora/Eos) while sober.
The reference to Memnon involves complex mythology: he was the son of Aurora (Dawn) and Tithonus. Aurora rides across the sky each morning in a chariot drawn by rosy-colored horses, bringing daylight to the world. The poet’s characterization of Memnon as “black” (niger) reflects ancient Mediterranean racial awareness of the Ethiopians, whom they viewed as the most distant of peoples.
The mention of “Aeaean spells” connects Dipsas to Circe, the famous witch from Homer’s Odyssey who lived on the island of Aeaea. The ability to make waters flow backward was a common trope in ancient descriptions of witches, representing their power to invert the natural order. This kind of magic (reversing rivers, drawing down the moon) was particularly associated with Thessalian witches in Roman literature.
scit bene, quid gramen, quid torto concita rhombo
licia, quid valeat virus amantis equae.
cum voluit, toto glomerantur nubila caelo;
cum voluit, puro fulget in orbe dies.
sanguine, siqua fides, stillantia sidera vidi;
purpureus Lunae sanguine vultus erat.
She knows well what herbs can do, what threads whirled on a twisted wheel can do, what the secretion of a mare in heat can accomplish. When she wishes, clouds gather in the whole sky; when she wishes, day shines bright in a clear vault. I saw, if you can believe it, stars dripping with blood; the face of the Moon was purple with blood.
This passage presents a catalog of witchcraft practices known in the Roman world. The magical wheel (rhombus) was a common tool in love magic, particularly associated with Greek practices. When spun, it was believed to bind the target of the spell. The reference to mare’s secretions (virus amantis equae) reflects the widespread use of animal substances in ancient magic, particularly those connected with fertility and sexual desire.
The witch’s power over weather was a standard feature in Roman depictions of sorceresses, especially those from Thessaly, a region renowned for witchcraft. The ability to clear or darken the sky demonstrated mastery over nature itself. The blood-red moon and stars represent a particularly frightening manifestation of magical power. Such celestial portents were viewed with great anxiety in Roman culture, as they suggested a fundamental disruption of the natural order. The repetition of “cum voluit” (when she wishes) emphasizes the witch’s complete control over these supernatural phenomena, making her a figure of both awe and terror.
hanc ego nocturnas versam volitare per umbras
suspicor et pluma corpus anile tegi.
suspicor, et fama est. oculis quoque pupula duplex
fulminat, et gemino lumen ab orbe venit.
evocat antiquis proavos atavosque sepulcris
et solidam longo carmine findit humum.
I suspect that she, transformed, flits through the nocturnal shadows and that her aged body is covered with feathers. I suspect it, and that’s the rumor. Also, a double pupil flashes in her eyes, and light comes from twin orbs. She calls forth great-grandfathers and ancestors from ancient tombs and splits the solid earth with her lengthy incantation.
The passage describes a witch’s supernatural transformation into a strix, a kind of vampire-owl that Romans believed preyed on children and the elderly. The double pupil was considered a mark of witchcraft in antiquity, particularly associated with the “evil eye.” This physical trait appears in other Roman sources about witches and magical creatures.
The witch’s ability to summon ancestors reflects Roman beliefs about necromancy, a particularly feared form of magic that violated proper relations between the living and the dead. Romans maintained strict ritual boundaries around death and burial, and the disturbance of tombs was both legally and religiously prohibited. The splitting of the earth suggests chthonic (underworld) magic, which was considered especially powerful and dangerous. The term “carmen” here means specifically a magical incantation, showing how Romans connected poetry’s rhythmic power with supernatural effects.
The repetition of “suspicor” (I suspect) creates an atmosphere of creeping horror while maintaining plausible deniability - a common rhetorical strategy when discussing dangerous supernatural matters.
Haec sibi proposuit thalamos temerare pudicos;
nec tamen eloquio lingua nocente caret.
fors me sermoni testem dedit; illa monebat
talia—me duplices occuluere fores:
‘scis here te, mea lux, iuveni placuisse beato?
haesit et in vultu constitit usque tuo.
She has set herself to defile virtuous marriage beds; nor does her tongue lack harmful eloquence. Chance made me witness to her conversation; she was giving such advice—double doors concealed me: “Do you know, my light, that yesterday you caught the fancy of a wealthy young man? He was stuck, fixed constantly on your face.”
The scene presents a lena (procuress) attempting to corrupt a married woman through carefully crafted persuasion. The term “thalamos pudicos” represents both the physical marriage bed and the sacred institution of Roman marriage itself, which was protected by law and religion. The violation of marriage (adulterium) was considered not just a private matter but a crime against society.
The address “mea lux” (my light) is a common term of endearment in Latin love poetry, here used manipulatively by the procuress to establish false intimacy. The emphasis on the young man’s wealth (beato) reveals the mercenary nature of the exchange - the lena typically arranged liaisons for profit. The detail about the double doors (duplices fores) reflects typical Roman architectural features in wealthy homes, where rooms often had substantial wooden doors that could provide privacy and security. Such doors were necessary in Roman houses, which often centered around open courtyards and had numerous household members, including slaves, moving about.
et cur non placeas? nulli tua forma secunda est;
me miseram, dignis corpore cultus abest!
tam felix esses quam formosissima, vellem—
non ego, te facta divite, pauper ero.
stella tibi oppositi nocuit contraria Martis.
Mars abiit; signo nunc Venus apta suo.
And why shouldn’t you be pleasing? Your beauty is second to none; poor me, the elegance worthy of your body is lacking! I wish you could be as fortunate as you are beautiful—I won’t be poor once you’ve become rich. The opposing star of confronting Mars has harmed you. Mars has departed; now Venus is favorable in her own constellation.
The passage reveals the intersection of Roman astrology, social manipulation, and economic realities. The procuress employs astrological reasoning to persuade her target, demonstrating how deeply astronomical beliefs penetrated Roman society. Mars, traditionally associated with conflict and obstacles, is said to be departing, while Venus—the planet of love and prosperity—moves into a favorable position. This astrological excuse for past misfortunes coupled with promises of future success was a common persuasive technique.
The emphasis on cultus (elegant appearance, cultivation) reflects Roman social values where external appearance indicated social status. The procuress suggests that her target’s natural beauty deserves better adornment, playing on social aspirations. The promise “non ego…pauper ero” reveals the economic motivation behind the matchmaking—the procuress expects to profit from arranging wealthy liaisons. This commercial aspect of Roman love affairs was well-known but usually left tastefully unmentioned in poetry.
prosit ut adveniens, en adspice! dives amator
te cupiit; curae, quid tibi desit, habet.
est etiam facies, qua se tibi conparet, illi;
si te non emptam vellet, emendus erat.’
Erubuit. ‘decet alba quidem pudor ora, sed iste,
si simules, prodest; verus obesse solet.’
“That his arrival may benefit you, look here! A wealthy lover has desired you; he’s concerned about what you lack. He even has looks that could match yours; if he didn’t want to buy you, he himself would be worth buying.” She blushed. “Indeed, modesty becomes fair cheeks, but that kind, if you fake it, helps; genuine modesty tends to harm.”
The procuress’s speech reveals much about Roman attitudes toward romance, commerce, and morality. The conflation of love and monetary transaction was commonplace - note the purchasing metaphors (emptam, emendus). The wealthy lover’s concern for the woman’s material needs (curae, quid tibi desit) presents generosity as proof of affection, a common theme in Roman love poetry.
The commentary on blushing and modesty is particularly revealing of Roman social values. The term pudor encompassed both the physical sign (blushing) and the moral quality (modesty, sexual restraint). Fair skin (alba ora) was prized in Roman society, making a blush particularly visible and attractive. However, the procuress’s cynical advice to fake modesty rather than feel it genuinely shows how these social values could be manipulated. The suggestion that real modesty is harmful (verus obesse solet) reveals a sophisticated understanding of social performance versus authentic virtue, a tension that Roman writers often explored.
cum bene deiectis gremium spectabis ocellis,
quantum quisque ferat, respiciendus erit.
forsitan inmundae Tatio regnante Sabinae
noluerint habiles pluribus esse viris;
nunc Mars externis animos exercet in armis,
at Venus Aeneae regnat in urbe sui.
When you look down at your lap with properly lowered eyes, you must consider how much each man brings. Perhaps when Tatius was king, the unkempt Sabine women were unwilling to be accommodating to multiple men; now Mars exercises spirits in foreign wars, but Venus reigns in the city of her Aeneas.
The text contrasts contemporary Roman morality with the legendary virtue of early Rome through reference to the Sabine women. King Tatius was the Sabine co-ruler with Romulus after the famous rape of the Sabine women, an incident central to Roman foundation mythology. The Sabine women were celebrated in Roman tradition for their rustic simplicity and moral virtue, highlighted here by the term “inmundae” (unkempt) - a quality viewed positively in Rome’s mythical past but disdained in the contemporary urban setting.
The opposition between Mars and Venus represents more than just war and love - it symbolizes the tension between old Roman military virtue and the new culture of sophisticated pleasure. The reference to “Aeneas’ city” reminds readers that Venus was considered the divine ancestress of the Romans through her son Aeneas, making the dominance of love and luxury seem almost divinely ordained. The advice about assessing men’s wealth (“quantum quisque ferat”) reveals the mercenary nature of relationships in contemporary Rome, while the instruction about downcast eyes ironically pairs the appearance of traditional modesty with calculating self-interest.
ludunt formosae; casta est, quam nemo rogavit—
aut, si rusticitas non vetat, ipsa rogat.
has quoque, quae frontis rugas in vertice portant,
excute; de rugis crimina multa cadent.
Penelope iuvenum vires temptabat in arcu;
qui latus argueret, corneus arcus erat.
Beautiful women play around; she’s chaste whom no one has propositioned—or, if rustic modesty doesn’t prevent it, she makes the proposition herself. Shake out these women too who wear wrinkles on their foreheads’ heights; many crimes will fall from those wrinkles. Penelope tested the young men’s strength with the bow; the bow that would reveal their weakness was made of horn.
The procuress delivers a cynical view of Roman sexual morality, suggesting that chastity is merely the absence of opportunity rather than a positive virtue. The term rusticitas carries complex connotations - while sometimes praised as old-fashioned virtue, here it’s mocked as naive backwardness preventing women from taking sexual initiative.
The reference to wrinkled foreheads (rugas in vertice) describes the appearance of stern moral disapproval, which the speaker suggests conceals actual misdeeds. This was a common literary trope - the hypocritical moralist whose severe exterior masks private vice.
The allusion to Penelope’s bow test comes from Homer’s Odyssey, where she challenges her suitors to string Odysseus’s mighty bow. Here the story is given a sexual interpretation - the bow becomes a test of masculine vigor, with the word “latus” (side, flank) suggesting physical weakness. The transformation of this famous example of wifely fidelity into a suggestive joke is characteristic of Roman love poetry’s irreverent treatment of mythological material.
labitur occulte fallitque volubilis aetas,
ut celer admissis labitur amnis aquis.
aera nitent usu, vestis bona quaerit haberi,
canescunt turpi tecta relicta situ—
forma, nisi admittas, nullo exercente senescit.
nec satis effectus unus et alter habent;
Time glides by secretly and deceives as it rolls on, just as a swift river glides with waters given free rein. Bronze objects shine with use, good clothing seeks to be worn, abandoned buildings grow white with ugly neglect—beauty, unless you give it free rein, grows old with no one exercising it. And one or two lovers don’t produce enough effect;
The metaphor of flowing water for passing time was deeply embedded in Roman thought, appearing frequently in poetry and philosophy. The comparison reveals anxiety about aging and decay - central concerns in Roman love poetry, where youth and beauty were paramount.
The examples drawn from daily Roman life are telling: bronze objects that needed regular polishing to prevent tarnishing, costly garments that could be ruined by disuse, and abandoned buildings growing moldy. Bronze was everywhere in Roman material culture, from mirrors to drinking vessels. The reference to buildings (tecta) growing white with neglect likely refers to the white efflorescence that appears on neglected stone and concrete structures, a common sight in Rome where abandoned buildings quickly deteriorated.
The passage culminates in a procuress’s argument for sexual activity, cynically cloaked in the language of proper maintenance and exercise. The term “exercente” carries connotations from both physical training and property management - domains that Romans took very seriously. The suggestion that multiple lovers are necessary continues this metaphor of maintenance, treating romantic relationships as a form of property upkeep.
certior e multis nec tam invidiosa rapina est.
plena venit canis de grege praeda lupis.
Ecce, quid iste tuus praeter nova carmina vates
donat? amatoris milia multa leges.
ipse deus vatum palla spectabilis aurea
tractat inauratae consona fila lyrae.
Plunder is more certain from many and not so enviable. For gray wolves, prey comes abundantly from the flock. Look, what does that poet of yours give besides new poems? You will gather many thousands from a lover. The very god of poets, spectacular in his golden cloak, plucks the harmonious strings of his gilded lyre.
The procuress contrasts the meager gifts of poets with the substantial rewards available from wealthy lovers. The wolf-and-flock metaphor reflects common Roman pastoral imagery, but is repurposed here for cynical economic advice. Wolves traditionally represented destructive forces in Roman literature, but here they become a positive model of practical predation.
The reference to “milia” (thousands) means sestertii, the standard Roman currency unit. The contemptuous dismissal of “nova carmina” (new poems) reflects a practical Roman attitude toward love poetry as worthless compared to material gifts. The final image of Apollo (deus vatum) in his performance costume ironically undermines poetic pretensions by emphasizing the theatrical, artificial nature of poetry. The palla was associated with both divine and artistic display, while the gilded lyre suggests superficial ornament rather than true value. This sarcastic treatment of poetic inspiration offers a materialistic counter to the idealized vision of poetry common in Roman love elegy.
qui dabit, ille tibi magno sit maior Homero;
crede mihi, res est ingeniosa dare.
nec tu, siquis erit capitis mercede redemptus,
despice; gypsati crimen inane pedis.
nec te decipiant veteres circum atria cerae.
tolle tuos tecum, pauper amator, avos!
Let him who gives be greater to you than great Homer; believe me, giving is an ingenious thing. And don’t look down on someone if he was redeemed for the price of his head; the mark of chalked feet is meaningless. Don’t let the ancient wax masks around the atrium deceive you. Take your ancestors with you, poor lover!
The text contrasts wealth with traditional Roman values of ancestry and poetic achievement. The reference to “chalked feet” (gypsati pedes) alludes to the practice of marking the feet of slaves for sale with chalk or gypsum in the Roman slave market. Someone “redeemed for the price of his head” refers to a former slave who had purchased his freedom.
The “ancient wax masks” (veteres cerae) were the imagines maiorum, wax portrait masks of distinguished ancestors displayed in the atria of noble Roman homes. These masks were a crucial symbol of aristocratic status, as only families with magistrates in their lineage had the right to display them. The masks were worn in funeral processions and served as constant reminders of family dignity and achievement.
The bitter instruction to the poor lover to “take his ancestors with him” mocks the traditional Roman reverence for noble ancestry, suggesting that in contemporary Rome, wealth matters more than heritage. The comparison with Homer further emphasizes this shift in values - even the greatest of poets is worth less than a generous patron.
qui, quia pulcher erit, poscet sine munere noctem,
quod det, amatorem flagitet ante suum!
Parcius exigito pretium, dum retia tendis,
ne fugiant; captos legibus ure tuis!
nec nocuit simulatus amor; sine, credat amari,
et cave ne gratis hic tibi constet amor!
If any man, because he is handsome, asks for a night without payment, let him first demand from his own lover what he can give! Demand your price more sparingly while you’re spreading your nets, lest they flee; once caught, torment them with your rules! Pretended love never hurt; let him believe he’s loved, and take care that this love doesn’t end up costing you for free!
The advice reflects the complex economics of Roman sexual relationships. The procuress counsels using classic hunting metaphors (retia, capturing prey) that were common in Roman love poetry, but repurposes them for commercial ends. The reference to “rules” (legibus) ironically applies legal terminology to the practiced manipulation of lovers.
The mention of a handsome man seeking free favors reflects social realities where physically attractive young men often expected their looks to exempt them from gift-giving obligations. The procuress’s cynical response reveals how thoroughly monetized intimate relationships could be in Roman society. The instruction to simulate love (simulatus amor) shows sophisticated psychological manipulation - creating artificial scarcity and emotional investment to increase the lover’s willingness to pay.
saepe nega noctes. capitis modo finge dolorem,
et modo, quae causas praebeat, Isis erit.
mox recipe, ut nullum patiendi colligat usum,
neve relentescat saepe repulsus amor.
surda sit oranti tua ianua, laxa ferenti;
audiat exclusi verba receptus amans;
Often refuse nights. Now pretend a headache, and now let Isis be the one who provides your excuses. Soon after, receive him, so that he doesn’t develop any tolerance for suffering, and so that love, often rebuffed, doesn’t grow lukewarm. Let your door be deaf to his pleading, but loose for him when he brings gifts; let the admitted lover hear the words of the excluded one;
The mention of Isis reflects the popularity of Egyptian cults in Rome, particularly among women. Isis worship provided acceptable excuses for women to be away from home, as her cult involved periods of sexual abstinence and ritual purification. These religious obligations could provide convenient pretexts for avoiding unwanted attention.
The advice about managing the door (ianua) reflects the importance of the Roman doorway in love affairs. The paraclausithyron (locked-door song) was a standard feature of Roman love poetry, where excluded lovers would plead at their mistress’s threshold. Here, this conventional scenario is manipulated for financial gain. The contrast between being “surda” (deaf) to pleading but “laxa” (loose, open) for gifts shows calculated cruelty designed to increase desire through frustration.
The psychology of manipulation is sophisticated - the text suggests creating artificial scarcity (“saepe nega”) while avoiding the risk that repeated rejection might extinguish desire altogether (“neve relentescat”). Having admitted lovers hear the pleas of those excluded creates competition and reinforces the value of access.
et, quasi laesa prior, nonnumquam irascere laeso—
vanescit culpa culpa repensa tua.
sed numquam dederis spatiosum tempus in iram:
saepe simultates ira morata facit.
quin etiam discant oculi lacrimare coacti,
et faciant udas illa vel ille genas;
And, as if you were wronged first, sometimes be angry at the one you’ve wronged—your fault vanishes when balanced by his fault. But never give lengthy time to anger: prolonged anger often creates feuds. Moreover, let your eyes learn to cry when forced, and let this or that situation make your cheeks wet;
The advice to feign injured innocence and manipulate through tears reflects sophisticated psychological tactics common in Roman love affairs. The Romans were fascinated by the performance aspects of emotion, and crying on command was considered a valuable skill, particularly for actors and orators. Women’s tears were seen as especially powerful in Roman culture, capable of swaying even hard-hearted men.
The warning about prolonged anger reflects Roman practical wisdom about relationship management. The term simultates specifically refers to ongoing private feuds or grudges, which could have serious social consequences in Rome’s close-knit elite society. The ability to calibrate emotional displays - showing just enough anger to make a point without creating lasting enmity - was considered an important social skill.
The use of legal language (culpa repensa) suggests the Roman tendency to view relationships through quasi-judicial lens, where wrongs must be balanced and compensated for. This reflects the broader Roman cultural emphasis on reciprocity and balance in social relations.
nec, siquem falles, tu periurare timeto—
commodat in lusus numina surda Venus.
servus et ad partes sollers ancilla parentur,
qui doceant, apte quid tibi possit emi;
et sibi pauca rogent—multos si pauca rogabunt,
postmodo de stipula grandis acervus erit.
And don’t be afraid to swear false oaths if you’re deceiving someone—Venus lends her deaf divine powers to such games. Let a slave and a clever maid be prepared for their roles, who can teach what might be suitably bought for you; and let them ask small things for themselves—if they ask small things from many, soon there will be a great heap from these gleanings.
The casual attitude toward perjury reflects the complex Roman relationship with oath-taking. While officially sacred and legally binding, oaths in matters of love were traditionally considered exempt from divine punishment. Venus herself is portrayed as deliberately ignoring false oaths sworn in her name, a common poetic trope.
The involvement of household slaves in love affairs was standard practice in Roman society. The term “sollers ancilla” (clever maid) refers to a stock character in Roman comedy and love poetry - the shrewd servant girl who facilitates her mistress’s affairs. Such servants could act as messengers, scouts, and negotiators between lovers.
The metaphor of gathering straw (stipula) to create a large pile (grandis acervus) comes from agricultural life - after harvest, gleaners would collect leftover stalks. Here it describes the systematic exploitation of multiple lovers through small requests that add up to significant gain. The servants’ role in extracting gifts shows how Roman romantic relationships often involved entire households in complex webs of deception and profit.
et soror et mater, nutrix quoque carpat amantem;
fit cito per multas praeda petita manus.
cum te deficient poscendi munera causae,
natalem libo testificare tuum!
Ne securus amet nullo rivale, caveto;
non bene, si tollas proelia, durat amor.
Let sister and mother, and nurse too, pluck at the lover; prey hunted by many hands is quickly caught. When reasons for demanding gifts fail you, make your birthday known with a cake! Take care that he doesn’t love securely without a rival; love doesn’t last well if you remove its battles.
The advice reveals how Roman households could coordinate to extract gifts from wealthy lovers. The nutrix (wet-nurse) was often a lifelong family servant who remained influential in her charge’s adult life. Many Roman children were nursed by slaves who became permanent household fixtures, creating complex emotional bonds that crossed social boundaries.
The reference to birthday celebrations touches on an important Roman social custom. While modern birthday parties center on receiving gifts, Roman birthday celebrations emphasized giving offerings (liba) to one’s personal genius or guardian spirit. The procuress cynically suggests using this religious observance as a pretext for demanding gifts. The libum was a specific type of cake made with cheese and honey, traditionally offered in religious ceremonies.
The military metaphors (proelia) reflect Roman culture’s martial values seeping into romantic relationships. The concept of rivalry as necessary for maintaining love’s intensity draws from broader Roman social attitudes where competition was seen as essential for maintaining excellence in any field.
ille viri videat toto vestigia lecto
factaque lascivis livida colla notis.
munera praecipue videat, quae miserit alter.
si dederit nemo, Sacra roganda Via est.
cum multa abstuleris, ut non tamen omnia donet,
quod numquam reddas, commodet, ipsa roga!
Let him see a man’s traces all over the bed and necks made livid with lustful marks. Above all, let him see the gifts that another has sent. If no one has given anything, the Sacred Way must be solicited. When you have taken many things, so that he still may not give everything, ask him yourself to lend what you will never return!
The advice to display evidence of other lovers reflects Roman attitudes about sexual jealousy as a tool for manipulation. Love bites (livida colla) were a recognized sign of passionate encounters, mentioned frequently in Roman love poetry. The deliberate display of such marks inverts usual Roman social customs where visible signs of sexual activity were generally considered inappropriate for respectable women.
The Sacred Way (Via Sacra) was Rome’s most prestigious shopping street, running through the Forum. It was lined with expensive shops selling jewelry, perfumes, and luxury goods. The suggestion to “solicit” the Sacred Way implies either window shopping to create desire for gifts or possibly seeking wealthy lovers among its fashionable crowds.
The progression from receiving gifts to requesting loans that won’t be repaid shows sophisticated financial manipulation. Roman law recognized various categories of loans and gifts, with different obligations for repayment. The advice to deliberately blur these categories by treating loans as gifts exploits legal and social conventions about financial obligations between lovers.
lingua iuvet mentemque tegat—blandire noceque;
inpia sub dulci melle venena latent.
Haec si praestiteris usu mihi cognita longo,
nec tulerint voces ventus et aura meas,
saepe mihi dices vivae bene, saepe rogabis,
ut mea defunctae molliter ossa cubent.’
Let your tongue help and hide your thoughts—flatter and harm; wicked poisons lie hidden under sweet honey. If you carry out these things known to me through long experience, and wind and breeze haven’t carried away my words, you’ll often wish me well while I live, and often pray that my bones may rest gently when I’m dead.
The metaphor of poison hidden in honey was proverbial in Roman literature, appearing in various contexts from love poetry to philosophical works. It reflected a sophisticated understanding of deception through sweetness that resonated with Roman rhetorical training.
The reference to wind carrying away words recalls Roman religious anxiety about the binding power of spoken formulas - prayers and curses needed to be heard by the gods to take effect. The image also suggests the ephemeral nature of speech contrasted with the permanence of practical wisdom.
The final wishes for peaceful rest reflect standard Roman funerary formulas. The phrase “molliter ossa cubent” (may the bones rest softly) appears frequently on Roman tombstones. Romans believed proper burial and ongoing remembrance by the living were essential for peace in the afterlife. The speaker’s request for such remembrance suggests she sees her teachings as creating a lasting obligation of gratitude in her student.
Vox erat in cursu, cum me mea prodidit umbra,
at nostrae vix se continuere manus,
quin albam raramque comam lacrimosaque vino
lumina rugosas distraherentque genas.
di tibi dent nullosque Lares inopemque senectam,
et longas hiemes perpetuamque sitim!
Her voice was still going on when my shadow betrayed me, and my hands could scarcely restrain themselves from tearing at her white and thinning hair, her eyes watery with wine, and her wrinkled cheeks. May the gods grant you no household gods, and a destitute old age, and long winters and perpetual thirst!
The curse invoked here touches core Roman anxieties about social status and religious protection. Lares were household deities that protected the family and home - to be without them meant being truly homeless and unprotected by divine forces. They were typically represented by small figurines kept in a household shrine (lararium) and received regular offerings.
The description of the old woman’s appearance reflects Roman attitudes about aging and alcoholism in women. White hair, thinning locks, and wrinkled skin were considered particularly shameful in women, while wine-drinking by women was strongly condemned in Roman society. Watery or bleary eyes (lacrimosa lumina) were associated with habitual drunkenness.
The curse of “long winters” would have particular force in a society without central heating, where the poor might freeze to death. The wish for perpetual thirst (perpetuam sitim) creates ironic justice for a drunk, while also evoking the torments of mythological figures in the underworld who could never satisfy their thirst.