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say, what pleasure can you hope to find, Even in this boast, this phænįx of her kind, If, warp'd by pride, on all around she low'r, And in your cup more gall than honey pour ? Ah! who so blindly wedded to the state, As not to shrink from such a perfect mate, Of every virtue feel the oppressive weight, And curse the worth he loves, seven hours in eight?

Some faults, though small, no husband yet can


'Tis now the nauseous cant, that none is fair,
Unless her thoughts in Attick terms she dress;
A mere Cecropian of a Sulmoness!
All now is Greek: in this their souls they pour,
In this their fears, hopes, joys ;-what would you

In this they clasp their lovers. We allow
These wanton fooleries to girls; but thou,
Who tremblest on the verge of eighty-eight,
To Greek it still !-0, 'tis a day too late.
Fol! how it savours of the dregs of lust,
When an old hag, whose blandishments disgust,
Affects the infant lisp, the girlish squeak,
And mumbles Out, “My life! my soul!” in Greek.

VER. 272. A mere Cecropian of a Sulmoness !] The satire of this line will be understood by recollecting, that the inhabitants of Sulmo, a town of Pelignum, spoke a barbarous Latin dialect; while the Cecropians, or people of Athens, made use of the purest and most elegant Greek.

After this line there follows in the original, Cum sit turpe magis nostris nescire Latine ; which I believe, with Barthius and others, to be spurious, and have therefore omitted.

Ver. 282. And mumbles out, My life! my soul !" in Greek.)

Words which the secret sheets alone should hear,
But which she trumpets in the publick ear. (woo
And words, indeed, have power-But though she
In softer strains than e'er Carpophorus knew,
Her wrinkles still employ her favourite's cares;
And while she murmurs love, he counts her years!

But tell me; if thou CANST NOT love a wise,
Made thine by every tie, and thine for life,
Why wed at all? why waste the wine and cakes,

guest, at parting, takes? And the rich present, which the bridal right Claims for the favours of the happy night, The charger, where, triumphantly inscroll'd, The Dacian hero shines in current gold?

Zwm nav fugen. These expressions were familiar to the Roman
ladies. We find them again in Martial, in an epigram patched up
from the

before us:
“ Cum tibi non Ephesos, nec sit Rhodos, aut Mitylene,

“ Sed domus in vico, Lælia, patricio,-
" Zwn nas fugen lascivum congeris usque,

“ Proh pudor! Hersiliæ civis, et Ægeriæ." Lib. x. 68. Ver. 296. The Dacian hero &c.] Dacicus, (says the Scholiast,) hoc est, solidi ita signati, qui pro virginitate deposita novæ nuptæ donantur. The custom was not peculiar to Rome; it prevailed, under the name of morgengab, or morning-present, over a great part of the North of Europe; where, indeed, some faint traces of it are still to be found.

The kind of money which was given to the bride, is not specified without reason.

It was coined, we may suppose, in consequence of Domitian's boasted victories in the Dacian war; and there is no doubt, as I have already said, (p. 124,) but that Juvenal mightily enjoyed this indirect allusion to them.

The Dacian war was one of the most dishonourable circumstances of Domitian's reign. He aspired to the conduct of it himself: and the consequences were precisely such as might have been predicted. . His cowardice kept him at a distance from

If thou canst love, and thy besotted mind
Is so uxoriously to one inclined,
Then bow thy neck, and, with submissive air,
Receive the yoke thou must for ever wear.

To a fond spouse, a wife no mercy shows,
But, warm'd with equal fires, enjoys his woes,
And triumphs in his spoils: her wayward will,
Defeats his bliss, and turns his good to ill!
Nought must be given, if she opposes ; nought,
If she opposes, must be sold or bought;
She tells thee where to love, and where to hate,
Shats out the ancient friend, whose beard thy gate
Knew from its downy to its hoary state:
And when pimps, parasites, of all degrees,
Have power to will their fortunes as they please,
She dictates thine, and impudently dares
To name thy very rivals for thy heirs.

“Go, crucify that slave.” For what offence ? Who's the accuser ? Where the evidence ? Hear all: no time, whatever time we take, To sist the charges, when man's life's at stake,

danger, and his voluptuousness ruined the discipline of the camp thus every thing went on ill under his auspices. Happily for the army, he left it at last: yet not till he had despatched his “ laurelld letters” to Rome : where the senate (nearly as contemptible as their master) decreed that MEDALS SHOULD BE STRUCK, and statues raised to his success; and that he should come among them at all times, in the habit of triumph! Ver. 316.

no time, &c.] Thus Amm. Marcel. linus: De vita et spiritu hominis laturum sententiam diu multumque cunctari oportere, nec præcipiti studio, ubi irrevocabile sit factum, agitari. But both Ammianus and our author had been long preceded in this humane sentiment, by the Grecian legislator:

Can e'er be long; hear all, then, I advise" Thou sniveller! is a slave a man?" she cries, " He's innocent; be't so :-'tis my command,

My will ; let that, sir, for a reason stand."

Thus the virago triumphs, thus she reigns: Anon she sickens of her first domains, And seeks for new; husband on husband takes, Till of her bridal veil one rent she makes. Again she tires, again for change she burns, And to the bed she lately left returns, While the fresh garlands, and unfaded boughs, Yet deck the portal of her wondring spouse. Thus swells the list; EIGHT HUSBANDS IN FIVE A rare inscription for their sepulchres ! [YEARS:

While thy wife's mother lives, expect no peace. She teaches her, with savage joy, to fleece

Νομος αλλος περι θανατε, μη μιαν μονον ημεραν κρινειν, αλλα πολλας. Plato Apol. de Socrat. i find a very notable piece of advice on this subject, among the wise sayings of D. Cato:

“ Nil temere uxori de servis crede querenti,” which every husband should get translated and hung over his

parlour chimney. VER, 330.

EIGHT HUSBANDS IN FIVE YEARS :] I have already mentioned the facility with which divorces might be obtained, (y. 49,) it only remains to add here, that the license was most grievously abused. Women of fashion do not now, says Seneca, reckon their years by the number of Consuls, but by the husbands they have taken.

Britannicus, interpreting an epigram of Martial too literally, (Lib. vi. 7,) affirms that Juvenal mentions eight husbands, because the law allowed no more ; all beyond that number being esteemed adultery. In this he is followed by Holyday ; but surely both are wrong: no such licentiousness ever was, or ever could be, allowed by law. But Juvenal adds, titulo res digna sepulchri ! Upon which Lubin says, it was customary to insc;ibe

A bankrupt spouse: kind creature ! she befriends
The lover's hopes, and when her daughter sends
An answer to his prayer, the style inspects,
Sostens the cruel, and the wrong corrects :
Experienced bawd! she blinds, or bribes all eyes,
And brings the adulterer in despite of spies.
And now the farce begins; the lady falls
“ Sick, sick, Oh! sick;" and for the doctor calls :
Sweltering she lies, till the dull visit's o'er,
While the rank letcher, at the closet door,
Lurking in silence, maddens with delay,
And in his own impatience melts away.
Nor deem it strange: What mother e'er was known
T' inculcate morals, purer than her own?

the number of husbands a woman had taken, on her sepulchre ; and he pretends to prove it by this distich, which, as usual, is little more than a transcript from our author:

“ Inscripsit tumulo septem celebrata virorum

“ Se fecisse Chloe. --Quid pote simplicius?" Chloe, however, gets rid of her husbands by a process somewhat more violent than that of the text, by poisoning them ! and on this the sting of the epigram depends; but I doubt the fact. To have been the wife of one man only, was looked upon as an honourable distinction, and therefore carefully noted on the tombs of such as were entitled to it; indeed, it is mentioned by Propertius, as the boast of Cornelia :

“ In lapide hoc uni nupta fuisse legar:” And again, in the same elegy, Lib. iv. 12 :

“ Filia, tu specimen censuræ nata maternæ,

Fac teneas UNUM, nos imitata, virum;" but, that a lady's executors ever recorded that she had buried seven or eight husbands, I cannot bring myself to believe. The exclamation of Juvenal is a bitter, perhaps an overcharged, sarcasm on the wives of his time, who'were so lost to every sense of the ancient honour, as to be ready to perpetuate their want of chastity on their tomb-stones !

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