M/M: I Miss You, Buddy: Ausonius to Paulinus 1.16-19

Name:  Ausonius Date:  310 – 395 CE Region:  Aquitania, Gaul [modern France] Citation:  Letter 27.34 – 37

In this letter to Paulinus, Ausonius complains about his absence by comparing their relationship to other great relationships of mythology.

 

Faithless one! You’d really break up Pirithous and Theseus,

Separate Euryalus from his Nisus?

You’d convince Pylades to abandon Orestes,

And keep the Sicilian Damon from offering himself as a hostage

So Pythias can escape?

Impie, Pirithoo disiungere Thesea posses,

Euryalumque suo socium secernere Niso!

Te suadente fugam, Pylades liquisset Orestem,

Nec custodisset Siculus vadimonia Damon!

Ausonius [Decimus Magnus Ausonius; 310 – 395 CE, modern France] was a Roman poet from Aquitania, Gaul who lived during the 4th century CE. He is best known for his epic poem Mosella, which describes the Moselle River, and his Epistles, a series of literary poems between himself and the Christian poet Paulinus. 

Blessed Are those in love! Bion fr. 8

 

Name: Bion Date:  c. 2nd – 1st century BCE Region: Smyrna [modern Turkey] Citation:  Fragment 8

Blessed are those who are in love,

Especially when it is reciprocated!

Theseus was happy with Pirithous by his side,

Even when he descended into the inescapable halls of Hades.

Orestes was blessed even in the harsh land of his enemies

As long as Pylades was traveling by his side.

Achilles was blessed for as long as his companion Patroclus lived;

And once he died, Achilles returned to his blessed state,

For he used his death to avenge his lover’s.

 

Ὄλβιοι οἱ φιλέοντες, ἐπὴν ἴσον ἀντεράωνται. ὄλβιος ἦν Θησεὺς τῶ Πειριθόω παρεόντος, εἰ καὶ ἀμειλίκτοιο κατήλυθεν εἰς Ἀΐδαο. ὄλβιος ἦν χαλεποῖσιν ἐν Ἀξείνοισιν Ὀρέστας, ὥνεκά οἱ ξυνὰς Πυλάδας ᾄρητο κελεύθως. ἦν μάκαρ Αἰακίδας ἑτάρω ζώοντος Ἀχιλλεύς: ὄλβιος ἦν θνᾴσκων, ὅτι οἱ μόρον αἰνὸν ἄμυνεν.

Beati sunt qui amant, quum pariter redamantur.  Beatus erat Theseus, quum Pirithous adesset, etsi descendit in implacabilis Plutonis domum. Beatus erat inter asperos barbaros Orestes, quoties cum eo communia Pylades susceperat itinerat. Erat felix Aeacides socio vivente Achilles beatus erat moriens, quod ei mortem infelicem ulciscebatur. Translated into Latin by  Franz Siegfried Lehrs

Bion of Smyrna [c. 2nd to 1st century BCE; modern Turkey] was a Greek poet from Smyrna [modern Turkey]. Little is known about his life, and only fragments remain of his poetry, but he was considered to be one of the best and most influential bucolic poets of ancient Greek and Roman literature.

The Funerary Inscription of Allia Potestas, CIL 6.37965

Here Lies Allia Potestas

Name: Unknown Date:  3rd century CE Region:  Perusia [modern Italy] Citation:  CIL 6.37965

To the Shade of Allia Potestas, freed slave of Allius:

Here lies the lady of Perusia.

No other woman is as precious as this one is.

Out of the multitude of women,

Maybe one or two could be better than her.

Such a busy lady held in such a tiny urn!

Persephone, cruel and harsh mistress of fate,

Why do you take away good people and leave the bad ones alone?

Everybody asks about her, and

I’m tired of telling them of her death;

Their tears are evidence of her good heart.

She was strong.

She was pious.

She was courageous.

She was faultless.

She was the most faithful housewife,

Efficient at home,

Efficient enough in public,

Well loved by everybody.

She was the only one who could meet any challenge.

She kept her mouth shut and stayed blameless.

She was the first one out of bed;

She was the last one to go to bed;

And only when everything was done.

She kept her hands busy with her wool-working,

Never putting it off with an excuse.

No one surpassed her in character and work ethic.

She never got cocky, never took time for herself to relax.

She was pretty—so pretty to look at—with golden hair,

The ivory-smoothness of her face remained ‘till the end,

The kind that they say doesn’t happen among mortal women…

What about her legs?

She looked like an actor playing Atalanta [1]

She didn’t worry about her beauty,

But Mother Nature was kind to her body.

Perhaps you could criticize her rough hands,

But she wasn’t satisfied unless she did the work herself.

She wasn’t an extrovert,

But thought her own company was enough.

No one really talked about her, because

She didn’t do anything to bring attention to herself.

As long as she lived,

She lived with her two lovers in such a way

That they were like the relationship of Pylades and Orestes [2]

They shared a single home

And a single heart.

But after her death,

They have grown apart,

And now they grow old apart.

What one woman has built, was destroyed in a brief moment.

Look at the example of Troy [3], to see what a woman can do!

Let this big example showcase a smaller one.

Your patron, who has ever kept you in his heart,

Gives this poem in never-ending tears

As a gift to the deceased woman,

Who will appreciate this gift.

Now that you’re gone,

Your patron will never find another woman pleasing;

He lives without you, and now suffers a living death.

He carries your name, carved in gold,

And looks to it often, as much as he can,

Preserving Ability[4] in gold.

As long as my influence lasts,

You will live on in my words.

I hold your image as a comfort for my grief,

Which I treasure, and adorn it with wreaths,

And whenever I visit your tomb, I will bring it with me.

But, overcome in such misery,

Can I properly grieve you with the proper ceremony?

If I can find another to entrust this ceremony,

Perhaps I can be happy in this one thing after losing you.

Oh no! You have won! My fate has become yours.

If someone is capable of harming this memorial, 

They are also capable of harming holy ground.

Believe that this tomb also contains a god.

[1] According to Greek myth, Atalanta was the fastest runner of her generation.

[2] Pylades and Orestes shared a deep and loving bond that some authors saw as friendship and others saw as a romantic relationship.

[3] This is a reference to the role of Helen of Troy in the Trojan War.

[4] A pun on her name, Potestas

---

Here Lies Allia Potestas

DM

Alliae A. L. Potestatis

Hic Perusina sita est, qua non pretiosior ulla

femina de multis vix una aut altera, visa.

Sedula seriola parva tam magna teneris.

Crudelis fati rector duraque Persiphone,

quid bona diripitis exuperantque mala?

Quaeritur a cunctis, iam respondere fatigor:

dant lacrimas animi signa benigna sui.

Prima toro delapsa fuit, eadem ultima lecto

se tulit ad quietem positis ex ordine rebus,

lana cui manibus numquam sine causa recessit,

opsequioque prior nulla moresque salubres. 

Haec sibi non placuit, numquam sibi libera visa.

Candida, luminibus pulchris, aurata capillis,

Fortis sancta, tenax, insons, fidissima custos,

munda domi, sat munda foras, notissima volgo,

sola erat ut posset factis occurrere cunctis.

Exiguo sermone inreprehensa manebat.

et nitor in facie permansit eburneus illae,

qualem mortalem nullam habuisse ferunt...[1]

Quid crura? Atalantes status illi comicus ipse.

Anxia non mansit, sed corpore pulchra benigno

levia membra tulit…Quod manibus duris fuerit, culpabere forsan;

nil illi placuit nisi quod per se sibi fecerat ipsa. 

Nosse fuit nullum studium, sibi se satis esse putabat.

Mansit et infamis, quia nil admiserat umquam.

Haec duo dum vixit iuvenes ita rexit amantes,

exemplo ut fierent similes Pyladisque et Orestae;

una domus capiebat eos unusque et spiritus illis. 

Post hanc nunc idem diversi sibi quisq. senescunt;

femina quod struxit talis, nunc puncta lacessunt.

Aspicite ad Troiam, quid femina fecerit olim!

Sit precor hoc iustum, exemplis in parvo grandibus uti.

Hos tibi dat versus lacrimans sine fine patronus 

muneris amissae,  cui nuncquam es pectore adempta,

quae putat amissis munera grata dari,

nulla cui post te femina visa proba est:

qui sine te vivit, cernit sua funera vivos.

Auro tuum nomen fert ille refertque lacerto 

qua retinere potest: auro conlata potestas.

Quantumcumque tamen praeconia nostra valebunt,

versiculis vives quandiucuque meis.

Effigiem pro te teneo solacia nostri,

qua colimus sancte sertaque ulta datur, 

cumque at te veniam, mecum comitata sequetur.

Sed tamen infelix cui tam sollemnia mandem?

Si tamen extiterit, cui tantum credere possim,

hoc unum felix amissa te mihi forsan ero.

Ei Mihi! Vicisti: sors mea facta tua est. 

Laedere qui hoc poterit, ausus quoque laedere divos.

Haec titulo insignis credite numen habet.

---

[1] The description of her chest will not be published here.

M/M: Love in these Trying Times, Ovid, Tristia I.ix.23-36

Caesar doesn’t mind a person staying true to their friend in troubled times, even if you’re a friend to his enemy. He won’t even get mad—his self-control is beyond compare—at someone in trying times who loves whatever it is he loved before.

Thoas himself is said to have approved of Pylades after he heard the story of Orestes’ companion.

From Hector’s mouth came praises of the loyalty of Patroclus for his great Achilles.  

When “pious” Theseus went with his friend Pirithous to the Underworld, they say that the god of the Tartarus himself grieved for him.

One can believe that when the tale of Nisus’ & Euryalus’ faith were told to you, Turnus, your cheeks were wet with tears.

 
There is piety among the wretched, and it is valued even among the enemy.

But oh my, how few men are moved by my words!

sed tamen in duris remanentem rebus amicum

     quamlibet inviso Caesar in hoste probat,

nec solet irasci—neque enim moderatior alter—

     cum quis in adversis, siquid amavit, amat.

de comite Argolici postquam cognovit Orestae,

     narratur Pyladen ipse probasse Thoas.

quae fuit Actoridae cum magno semper Achille,

     laudari solita est Hectoris ore fides.

quod pius ad Manes Theseus comes iret amico,

     Tartareum dicunt indoluisse deum.

Euryali Nisique fide tibi, Turne, relata

     credibile est lacrimis inmaduisse genas.

est etiam in miseris pietas, et in hoste probatur.

     ei mihi, quam paucos haec mea dicta movent! 

--Ovid, Tristia I.ix.23-36

 Ovid was one of the most famous love poets of Rome’s Golden Age. His most famous work, the Metamorphoses, provides a history of the world through a series of interwoven myths. Most of his poetry is erotic in nature; for this reason, he fell into trouble during the conservative social reforms under the reign of the emperor Augustus. In 8 CE he was banished to Bithynia, where he spent the remainder of his life pining for his native homeland.

When I Find Myself In Times of Trouble... Ovid, Trist.1.5.17-34

 

Name:     Ovid Date:       43 BCE – 17 CE Region:   Sulmo [modern Italy] Citation: Sorrows 1.5.17-34

In this poem, the exiled poet Ovid writes about the importance of true friendship and loyalty.

 

If my ship were sailing on a friendly wind,

Perhaps I could forget your loyalty.

For Pirithous would not have felt Theseus’ friendship

If he hadn’t gone on a quest to the Underworld.

If not for wretched Orestes’ madness,

Pylades would not be seen as a paragon of love.

If Euryalus had not fallen in battle against the Rutulians, Nisus would have no glory.

Just like gold bubbles up from the smelter’s furnace,

Faith also must endure a tribulation.

Whenever Fortune smiles down upon us serenely

She blesses us with uninterrupted prosperity,

But as soon as she grows angry,

Our good times flee,

Instead of the tons of friends we once had,

We can scarcely find one.

And although I used to ponder examples of this trope,

Now this evil has befallen me, too.

Of all my “friends,” y’all are the two or three friends I have left.

The rest belong to Fortune’s clique, not mine.

  

Si tamen haec navis vento ferretur amico,

ignoraretur forsitan ista fides.

Thesea Pirithous non tam sensisset amicum,

si non infernas vivus adisset aquas.

Ut foret exemplum veri Phoceus amoris,

fecerunt Furiae, tristis Oresta, tuae.

Si non Euryalus Rutulos cecidisset in hostes,

Hyrtacidae Nisi gloria nulla foret.

Scilicet ut flavum spectatur in ignibus aurum,

tempore sic duro est inspicienda fides.

Dum iuvat et vultu ridet Fortuna sereno,

indelibatas cuncta sequuntur opes:

at simul intonuit, fugiunt, nec noscitur ulli,

agminibus comitum qui modo cinctus erat.

Atque haec, exemplis quondam collecta priorum,

nunc mihi sunt propriis cognita vera malis.

Vix duo tresve mihi de tot superestis amici:

cetera Fortunae, non mea turba fuit.

Ovid [Publius Ovidius Naso; 43 BCE – 17 CE, modern Italy] was one of the most famous love poets of Rome’s Golden Age. His most famous work, the Metamorphoses, provides a history of the world through a series of interwoven myths. Most of his poetry is erotic in nature; for this reason, he fell into trouble during the conservative social reforms under the reign of the emperor Augustus. In 8 CE he was banished to Bithynia [modern Turkey], where he spent the remainder of his life pining for his native homeland.