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Book IV.8:1-88

CYNTHIA IN A FURY

Propertius

Hear about what caused headlong flight, through the watery Esquiline, tonight, when a crowd of residents rushed through the New Fields, and a shameful brawl broke out in a secret bar: though I wasn’t there, my name was not unstained.

Lanuvium, from of old, is guarded by an ancient serpent: the hour you spend on such a marvellous visit won’t be wasted; where the sacred way is dragged down through a dark abyss, where the hungry snake’s tribute penetrates (virgin, be wary of all such paths!), when he demands the annual offering of food, and twines, hissing, from the centre of the earth. Girls grow pale, sent down to such rites as these, when their hand is rashly entrusted to the serpent’s mouth. He seizes the tit-bits the virgins offer: the basket itself trembles in their hands. If they’ve remained chaste they return to their parents’ arms, and the farmers shout: ‘It will be a fertile year.’

My Cynthia was carried there, by clipped horses. Juno was the pretext, but Venus was more likely. Appian Way, tell, I beg you, of how she drove in triumph, with you as witness, her wheels shooting past over your stones. She was a sight, sitting there, hanging over the end of the shaft, daring to loose the reins over foul places. For I say nothing of the silk-panelled coach of that plucked spendthrift, and his hounds with jewelled collars on their Molassian necks, who’ll offer himself for sale, fated for filthy stuffing, while a shameful beard will cover those smoothly shaven cheeks.

Since harm so often befell our couch, I decided to change my bed by moving camp. There is a certain Phyllis, living near Aventine Diana. When she’s sober nothing pleases: when she’s drunk everything goes. Teia is another, among the groves of Tarpeia, lovely, but full of wine, one man is not enough. I decided to call on them to lighten the night-time, and refresh my amours with untried intrigue.

There was a couch for three on a private lawn. Do you want to know how we lay? I was between the two. Lygdamus was cup-bearer, and there was a set of summer glassware, and Greek wine that tasted Methymnian. Nile, the flute-player was yours, Phyllis was castanet dancer, and artless elegant roses were appropriately scattered. Magnus the dwarf himself, tiny in limb, waved his stunted hands around to the boxwood flute. The lamps flames flickered though the lamps were full, and the table sloped sideways on its legs. And I looked to throw Venus on the lucky dice, but the wretched Dogs always leapt out at me. They sang, I was deaf: bared their breasts, I was blind. Alas, I was off alone by Lanuvium’s gates.

When suddenly the doors creaked aloud on their hinges, and a low murmur sounded from the entrance by the Lares. Immediately Cynthia flung back the folding screens, with hair undone, but furiously fine. I dropped the glass from between loosened fingers, and my lips paled though they were slack with wine. Her eyes flashed lightning, and how the woman raged, a sight no less terrible than the sacking of a city.

She thrust her angry nails at Phyllis: Teia cried out in terror to the neighbouring waters. The raised torches disturbed the sleeping citizens, and the whole street echoed with midnight madness. The first tavern in a dark street swallowed the girls, with loose dresses and dishevelled hair.

Cynthia exulted in the spoils, and ran back victorious to strike my face with perverse hands, put her mark on my neck, drew blood with her mouth, and most of all struck my eyes that deserved it. And then when her arms were tired with plaguing me, she rooted out Lygdamus lying sheltered by the left-hand couch, and, dragged forward, he begged my spirit to protect him. Lygdamus, I couldn’t do a thing: I was a prisoner like you.

With outstretched hands, and only then, it came to a treaty, while she would barely allow me to touch her feet, and she said: ‘If you’d have me pardon the sins you confess, accept what the shape of my laws will be. You’re not to walk about, all dressed up, in the shade of Pompey’s colonnade, or when they strew the sand in the licentious Forum. Take care you don’t bend your neck up to the back of the theatre, or give yourself over to your loitering by some open carriage. Most of all let Lygdamus be sold, he’s my main cause for complaint, and let his feet drag around double links of chain.’

She spelt out her laws: I replied ‘I’ll obey the law.’ She smiled, with pride in the power I had granted. Then with fire she purified wherever the alien girls had touched, and washed the threshold with pure water. She ordered me to change all my clothes again, and touched my head three times with burning sulphur, and so I responded by changing the bed, every single sheet, and on the familiar couch we resolved our quarrel.