Non ego nobilium sedeo studiosus equorum;
cui tamen ipsa faves, vincat ut ille, precor.
ut loquerer tecum veni, tecumque sederem,
ne tibi non notus, quem facis, esset amor.
tu cursus spectas, ego te; spectemus uterque
quod iuvat, atque oculos pascat uterque suos.
I do not sit here as an enthusiast of noble horses; yet I pray that the one you yourself favor wins. I came to talk with you and to sit with you, so that the love you inspire would not be unknown to you. You watch the races, I watch you; let each of us watch what delights us, and let each feed their own eyes.
At the heart of this passage lies the Roman circus, where horse racing was one of the most popular spectator sports. The “noble horses” (nobilium equorum) refers to thoroughbred racing horses, which were highly valued and often had their genealogies carefully documented. The races took place in venues like the Circus Maximus in Rome, where social interaction was as important as the sporting event itself.
The practice of supporting particular horses or teams was deeply embedded in Roman culture, similar to modern sports fandom. Spectators would often declare their allegiance to specific factions, distinguished by colors (primarily Blue, Green, Red, and White). The speaker’s comment about “the one you favor” reflects this common practice of having preferred competitors.
The metaphorical use of “feeding the eyes” (pascat oculos) was a common poetic device in Latin literature, suggesting visual pleasure or satisfaction. The setting of the races provided one of the few socially acceptable venues where members of different genders could interact in public in Roman society, making it a common setting for romantic encounters and flirtation, as depicted in this passage.
O, cuicumque faves, felix agitator equorum!
ergo illi curae contigit esse tuae?
hoc mihi contingat, sacro de carcere missis
insistam forti mente vehendus equis,
et modo lora dabo, modo verbere terga notabo,
nunc stringam metas interiore rota.
O fortunate chariot driver, whomever you support! So has he happened to be the object of your concern? May this happen to me: that I might stand firm, ready to be carried by horses released from the sacred starting gate, and now I will give them rein, now I will mark their backs with the whip, now I will graze the turning posts with my inner wheel.
The starting gates (carceres) at Roman chariot races were elaborate structures with wooden doors that would spring open simultaneously, ensuring a fair start. They were considered “sacred” as races had religious significance and were often part of religious festivals. The skill of taking the turns was crucial in chariot racing - drivers tried to come as close as possible to the meta (turning post) with their inner wheel without crashing, as this allowed them to cover the shortest distance around the track. The whip and reins were the charioteer’s essential tools for controlling the team of horses, typically four in prestigious races. Charioteers could achieve celebrity status in Roman society, accumulating great wealth and fame despite their generally low social origins. The crowd’s practice of “supporting” (favere) particular drivers created intense partisan atmospheres at the races, sometimes leading to violent confrontations between fans of rival teams.
si mihi currenti fueris conspecta, morabor,
deque meis manibus lora remissa fluent.
at quam paene Pelops Pisaea concidit hasta,
dum spectat vultus, Hippodamia, tuos!
nempe favore suae vicit tamen ille puellae.
vincamus dominae quisque favore suae!
If I catch sight of you while racing, I will slow down, and the loosened reins will slip from my hands. But how nearly did Pelops fall by the Pisaean spear, while gazing at your face, Hippodamia! Yet indeed he won through his maiden’s favor. Let each of us win through his lady’s favor!
The mythological reference to Pelops and Hippodamia recalls one of the most famous chariot races in Greek mythology. Oenomaus, king of Pisa in Elis, challenged all suitors of his daughter Hippodamia to a chariot race, killing those he defeated with his spear (hasta Pisaea). Pelops won the race and Hippodamia’s hand through divine intervention and the sabotage of Oenomaus’s chariot, reportedly aided by Hippodamia herself who had fallen in love with him.
The poet draws a parallel between this mythological race and his own situation at the circus, employing the common literary device of using mythology to elevate and dignify contemporary experience. The reference would have been immediately recognizable to educated Romans. The final line, with its shift to the plural (vincamus quisque), creates a sense of shared experience among lovers, suggesting that success in love, like success in racing, depends on the favorable disposition of one’s beloved. The term “domina” was standard in Roman love poetry, indicating both the elevated status given to the beloved and the poet’s willing submission to her.
Quid frustra refugis? cogit nos linea iungi.
haec in lege loci commoda circus habet —
tu tamen a dextra, quicumque es, parce puellae;
contactu lateris laeditur ista tui.
tu quoque, qui spectas post nos, tua contrahe crura,
si pudor est, rigido nec preme terga genu!
Why do you try to escape in vain? The line forces us to sit together. The circus offers these advantages by the law of the place - yet you, whoever you are on the right, spare the girl; she is hurt by the touch of your side. You too, who watch behind us, draw back your legs, if you have any shame, and don’t press against our backs with your stiff knee!
Roman spectators sat on long stone benches in the circus, marked with lines (lineae) that indicated how many people could fit in each section. These markings helped maintain order and prevented overcrowding, though the space allotted per person was quite minimal by modern standards. The layout created unavoidable physical proximity between spectators, which could lead to both welcome and unwelcome contact.
The “law of the place” (lex loci) refers to the established customs and rules of public venues. The circus, like other entertainment venues in Rome, had its own social etiquette and expected behaviors. While close physical contact was inevitable, there were still boundaries of proper conduct, especially regarding treatment of women. The speaker’s complaints about unwanted touching reflect real concerns about harassment in crowded public spaces, a problem common enough to be addressed in Roman literature. The reference to someone’s “stiff knee” pressing from behind highlights the cramped conditions of ancient entertainment venues, where viewers sat in tight rows on hard stone seats, often without backs or cushions.
Sed nimium demissa iacent tibi pallia terra.
collige — vel digitis en ego tollo meis!
invida vestis eras, quae tam bona crura tegebas;
quoque magis spectes — invida vestis eras!
talia Milanion Atalantes crura fugacis
optavit manibus sustinuisse suis.
But your cloak lies too low on the ground for you. Gather it up — or look, I’ll lift it with my own fingers! You were an envious garment, that covered such beautiful legs; and the more one looks — you were an envious garment! Such were the legs of swift Atalanta that Milanion wished to hold up with his own hands.
In Roman society, proper dress and deportment were crucial markers of social status and moral character. A pallium dragging on the ground could be seen as both untidy and potentially immodest, as managing one’s clothing properly was associated with self-control and dignity. The pallium was a Greek-style garment adopted by Romans, particularly associated with philosophers and those claiming Greek cultural sophistication.
The mythological reference to Atalanta and Milanion recalls a famous love story. Atalanta was a legendary huntress who would only marry a man who could outrun her in a footrace. Milanion (also known as Hippomenes in some versions) won the race by dropping golden apples that Atalanta stopped to collect. The reference to her “swift legs” (crura fugacis) plays on both her famous speed and her beauty. The comparison of the addressee to Atalanta is both complimentary and suggestive, as Atalanta was known for her beauty as well as her athletic prowess. The speaker casts himself in the role of Milanion, the successful suitor who ultimately won the seemingly unattainable woman.
The repeated phrase “invida vestis” (envious garment) personifies the clothing as a rival, jealously concealing the beauty it covers - a common poetic device in Roman love poetry, where inanimate objects are often portrayed as conspirators for or against the lover’s interests.
talia pinguntur succinctae crura Dianae
cum sequitur fortes, fortior ipsa, feras.
his ego non visis arsi; quid fiet ab ipsis?
in flammam flammas, in mare fundis aquas.
suspicor ex istis et cetera posse placere,
quae bene sub tenui condita veste latent.
Such are the legs depicted of Diana with her garments tucked up when she, herself braver, pursues brave beasts. I burned even without seeing these; what will happen from seeing them directly? You pour flames into fire, water into the sea. From these I suspect that other things too might please me, which lie well hidden beneath your thin garment.
Diana was the virgin goddess of hunting, typically depicted in Roman art wearing a short tunic suitable for running through the woods. Her garment would be girded up (succincta) - gathered and secured above the knees - for freedom of movement while hunting. The comparison of a woman to Diana was both complimentary and potentially risqué, as it drew attention to exposed legs while ostensibly praising athletic virtue. The paradox of Diana as both a virgin goddess and a common source of erotic imagery was well established in Roman culture.
The metaphor of love as fire (arsi, flammam, flammas) was a standard trope in Roman love poetry, as was the idea that seeing the beloved increased passion. The expression “water into the sea” (in mare aquas) exemplifies the Roman fondness for proverbial expressions about futile actions, similar to modern “carrying coals to Newcastle.” The reference to garments revealing while concealing was another conventional element of erotic poetry, with thin or transparent clothing (tenuis vestis) being particularly associated with seduction and sensuality in Roman literature. Such garments, often imported from the island of Cos, were considered scandalous when worn in public but were frequently mentioned in poetry.
Vis tamen interea faciles arcessere ventos?
quos faciet nostra mota tabella manu.
an magis hic meus est animi, non aeris aestus,
captaque femineus pectora torret amor?
dum loquor, alba levi sparsa est tibi pulvere vestis.
sordide de niveo corpore pulvis abi!
Would you like me meanwhile to summon gentle breezes? Which my fan, moved by my hand, will create. Or is this rather my mind’s heat, not the air’s, and does feminine love scorch my captured heart? While I speak, your white garment has been sprinkled with fine dust. Away, dirty dust, from her snow-white body!
In warm Mediterranean climates, hand fans were common accessories used for cooling. These were often made of wood or other stiff materials, unlike modern folding fans. The dual meaning of aestus as both physical heat and passionate fervor was a common play on words in Roman love poetry, building on the traditional association of love with fire and heat.
The contrast between white clothing (alba vestis) and dust dramatizes a common problem in ancient Rome, where unpaved streets and the general dustiness of the environment posed constant challenges to cleanliness and appearance. White garments, particularly prized and associated with high status, were especially vulnerable to soiling. The image of snow-white skin (niveum corpus) was a standard element in descriptions of feminine beauty in Roman poetry, reflecting both aesthetic ideals and social status - wealthy women who didn’t need to work outdoors could maintain pale complexions. The apostrophe to dust, ordering it to depart, exemplifies the rhetorical device of addressing inanimate objects, frequently employed in Latin poetry.
Sed iam pompa venit — linguis animisque favete!
tempus adest plausus — aurea pompa venit.
prima loco fertur passis Victoria pinnis —
huc ades et meus hic fac, dea, vincat amor!
plaudite Neptuno, nimium qui creditis undis!
nil mihi cum pelago; me mea terra capit.
But now the procession comes — be favorable with tongues and hearts! The time for applause is here — the golden procession comes. Victory is carried first in place with spread wings — come here, goddess, and make my love here victorious! Applaud Neptune, you who trust too much in the waves! I have nothing to do with the sea; my land holds me.
The processional parade (pompa) described was a crucial ceremonial element that preceded games in the Roman circus. These elaborate processions included statues of gods carried on fercula (special platforms), preceded by Victory with wings spread. The phrase “linguis animisque favete” was a ritual formula calling for reverent silence and attention, commonly used in religious contexts.
The golden nature of the procession refers to the lavish decoration of the images and their carriers, reflecting the Roman love of spectacle and display. Victory (Victoria) was personified as a goddess, typically depicted as a winged female figure, whose presence was considered essential for successful games. Her position at the front of the procession emphasized her importance in Roman civic and religious life.
The reference to Neptune and the sea reflects the common practice of different spectators supporting different deities or factions at the games. The speaker’s rejection of Neptune in favor of “terra” (land) suggests a contrast between maritime and terrestrial concerns, possibly reflecting different racing factions or simply personal preference. The expression “nil mihi cum” (nothing to me with) was a common idiom for disclaiming association or involvement with something.
plaude tuo Marti, miles! nos odimus arma;
pax iuvat et media pace repertus amor.
auguribus Phoebus, Phoebe venantibus adsit!
artifices in te verte, Minerva, manus!
ruricolae, Cereri teneroque adsurgite Baccho!
Pollucem pugiles, Castora placet eques!
Applaud your Mars, soldier! We hate weapons; peace delights us and love found in the midst of peace. May Phoebus attend the augurs, Phoebe the hunters! Minerva, turn the skilled hands to yourself! Farmers, rise for Ceres and tender Bacchus! Let the boxers please Pollux, the horseman Castor!
This passage illustrates the Roman practice of associating different professions and activities with their patron deities. Mars, the god of war, was naturally connected with soldiers, while Phoebus Apollo was the patron of prophecy and augury. His sister Phoebe (Diana) protected hunters. Minerva presided over crafts and skilled work, while Ceres governed agriculture along with Bacchus (also called Liber), who was particularly associated with viticulture.
The Dioscuri (Castor and Pollux) had specific athletic associations - Pollux was famous as a boxer, while Castor was renowned for horsemanship. Their cult was particularly important in Rome, where they were believed to have intervened in battle to help the Romans. The gesture of rising (adsurgere) was a mark of respect in Roman culture, particularly appropriate when honoring deities.
The contrast between war and peace reflects a common theme in Roman literature, especially during the Augustan period, when peace was celebrated after long civil wars. The phrase “media pace” (in the midst of peace) suggests complete, established peace rather than merely the absence of war. The connection between peace and love was a standard motif in Roman love poetry, which often positioned itself in opposition to martial themes.
nos tibi, blanda Venus, puerisque potentibus arcu
plaudimus; inceptis adnue, diva, meis
daque novae mentem dominae! patiatur amari!
adnuit et motu signa secunda dedit.
quod dea promisit, promittas ipsa, rogamus;
pace loquar Veneris, tu dea maior eris.
We applaud you, charming Venus, and the boys powerful with their bow; nod approval, goddess, to my undertakings and grant a favorable disposition to my new mistress! May she allow herself to be loved! She nodded and gave favorable signs with her movement. What the goddess has promised, we ask that you yourself promise; with Venus’s permission I will say it, you will be a greater goddess.
Love poetry routinely invoked Venus and her attendant Cupids (pueri potentes arcu), who were imagined as winged boys armed with bows and arrows that could inspire love. The notion of divine assent through nodding (adnuere) was deeply embedded in Roman religious thought - gods were believed to signal their approval through such gestures, often displayed by their cult statues. The concept of domina (“mistress”) was standard in Roman love poetry, indicating both the elevated status given to the beloved and the poet’s willing submission. The apologetic phrase “pace loquar Veneris” (“with Venus’s permission I will speak”) is a formula of religious respect, acknowledging potential divine jealousy while making a potentially provocative statement. The elevation of the mortal beloved above Venus herself is a bold poetic conceit, typical of Roman love poetry’s playful approach to traditional religion. The “signs” (signa) mentioned reflect the Roman preoccupation with omens and divine signals in both religious and everyday life.
per tibi tot iuro testes pompamque deorum,
te dominam nobis tempus in omne peti!
Sed pendent tibi crura. potes, si forte iuvabit,
cancellis primos inseruisse pedes.
maxima iam vacuo praetor spectacula circo
quadriiugos aequo carcere misit equos.
I swear to you by all these witnesses and by the procession of the gods that you are sought by me as my mistress for all time! But your legs are dangling. You can, if perhaps it will help, put your feet through the first rails. Now in the empty circus the praetor has released the four-horse teams from the level starting gate for the great spectacle.
The scene takes place in the Roman circus, where spectators sat on tiered stone benches separated by barriers or railings (cancelli). These served both as safety features and as demarcations between different seating sections. The pompa circensis was a solemn religious procession that preceded the races, carrying images of the gods through the circus. This religious element made swearing by the procession a particularly serious oath.
The praetor was one of Rome’s senior magistrates who, among other duties, could preside over public games. The “level” or “fair” starting gate (aequus carcer) refers to the sophisticated mechanical gates that ensured all chariots started simultaneously. Four-horse chariots (quadrigae) were the most prestigious racing teams, requiring exceptional skill to control. The starting gates were located at the flat end of the circus’s elongated oval, and their release marked the official start of races.
The reference to dangling legs suggests the speaker’s companion is seated on a higher tier, probably a woman of status, as seating in Roman entertainment venues was strictly organized according to social rank and gender. The suggestion about putting feet through the railings indicates these were likely the low barriers separating rows of seats, common in Roman entertainment architecture.
cui studeas, video. vincet, cuicumque favebis.
quid cupias, ipsi scire videntur equi.
me miserum, metam spatioso circuit orbe!
quid facis? admoto proxumus axe subit.
quid facis, infelix? perdis bona vota puellae.
tende, precor, valida lora sinistra manu!
I see whom you’re cheering for. Whoever you favor will win. The horses themselves seem to know what you desire. Woe is me, he’s taking the turn post in a wide circle! What are you doing? He’s coming up close with his chariot drawn near. What are you doing, unlucky one? You’re ruining the girl’s good wishes. Pull the left reins, I beg you, with a strong hand!
Chariot racing in Rome took place in a long oval track with turning posts (metae) at each end. Taking these turns correctly was crucial to victory - going too wide around them meant losing precious time and distance, while cutting too close risked a catastrophic crash. The most dangerous and skilled part of chariot racing was negotiating these turns, especially the left turn around the meta, which required careful handling of the left reins (lora sinistra).
The layout of a Roman circus featured a raised central barrier (spina) with the metae at either end. Chariots always raced counterclockwise, making the left turns particularly critical. Skilled charioteers would try to guide their teams as close to the meta as possible while maintaining control. The technical language used here - “admoto axe” (with chariot drawn near), “spatioso orbe” (in a wide circle) - reflects the specialized vocabulary of chariot racing that would have been familiar to Roman audiences.
The social dynamics of racing fandom are evident in the passage. Spectators would actively support (studere, favere) particular charioteers or teams, and their emotional investment in the outcome is reflected in their “good wishes” (bona vota). The idea that the horses themselves understand human desires suggests the Romans’ appreciation for the intelligence of these highly trained animals, which were often as famous as their drivers.
favimus ignavo — sed enim revocate, Quirites,
et date iactatis undique signa togis!
en, revocant! — ac ne turbet toga mota capillos,
in nostros abdas te licet usque sinus.
Iamque patent iterum reserato carcere postes;
evolat admissis discolor agmen equis.
We cheered for the coward — but call for a restart, Quirites, and give the signal by waving your togas everywhere! Look, they’re calling for a restart! — and lest the waving toga disturb your hair, you may hide yourself deep in my lap. And now the gates stand open again with the starting gate unlocked; the multicolored troop flies forth with horses given their head.
The scene captures a moment at a Roman chariot race where spectators are calling for a restart, likely due to a false start or some irregularity. The practice of waving togas to signal disapproval or to demand a restart was a common form of crowd expression in Roman entertainment venues. The formal address “Quirites” was used to address Roman citizens in their civilian capacity, emphasizing their collective authority to influence the proceedings.
The “discolor agmen” refers to the different racing teams, distinguished by their colors - primarily Green, Blue, Red, and White in Roman chariot racing. These teams (factiones) had passionate followers and were major social institutions. The technical term “carcer” specifically refers to the starting gates in the Circus, sophisticated mechanical devices that could be opened simultaneously to ensure a fair start.
The intimate scene described, with the woman potentially hiding in the speaker’s lap to avoid the chaos of waving togas, reflects the circus’s role as a socially acceptable venue for close contact between the sexes in Roman society. The sinus mentioned was a fold in the toga that formed a kind of pocket at chest level, but here it metaphorically refers to the speaker’s embrace.
nunc saltem supera spatioque insurge patenti!
sint mea, sint dominae fac rata vota meae!
sunt dominae rata vota meae, mea vota supersunt.
ille tenet palmam; palma petenda mea est.
risit, et argutis quiddam promisit ocellis.
‘hoc satis est, alio cetera redde loco!’
Now at least prevail and rise up in the open course! Make my prayers be fulfilled, make my mistress’s prayers be fulfilled! My mistress’s prayers are fulfilled, my prayers remain. He holds the palm; my palm must be sought. She laughed, and promised something with her expressive eyes. “This is enough, give me the rest in another place!”
The racing imagery reflects the specialized vocabulary of the Roman circus. The spatium refers to the long straight section of the race course where chariots could gain maximum speed. The palm branch (palma) was the traditional symbol of victory in Roman games, originating from Greek athletic traditions. Winners would receive palm fronds as immediate recognition of their victory, before any other prizes were awarded.
The use of vota (prayers or vows) bridges religious and amatory contexts - Romans regularly made vows to deities for success in various endeavors, including love. The contrast between the mistress’s fulfilled prayers (concerning the race) and the speaker’s unfulfilled ones (concerning love) creates a typical elegiac tension.
The diminutive ocelli and the description of meaningful glances exchanged in public reflects common elements of Roman courtship, where direct verbal communication might be limited by social constraints. The final line’s suggestion of a private meeting (“alio loco”) hints at the circus’s role as a venue for arranging romantic encounters, while maintaining public propriety.