Juvenal, Satire 12
Translated by John Delaware Lewis (1882)
Formatted by C. Chinn (2008)

	SWEETER to me than my own birthday, Corvinus, is this day 
	on which the festal turf awaits the animals promised to the gods. 
	We are leading to the sacrifice a snow-white lamb for the Queen of heaven; 
	a like fleece will be given to her who fights armed with the Mauritanian Gorgon; 
5	but the victim reserved for Tarpeian Jove shakes in his 
	wantonness the outstretched rope and tosses his head — 
	a wild steer, in truth, ripe for the temple and the altar, and fit 
	to be sprinkled with wine, who is already ashamed to drain the teats 
	of his mother, who butts the oaks with his rising horn. 
10	If my personal means were ample, and equal to my affections, 
	a bull fatter than Hispulla should be dragged along, one slow from 
	his very bulk, and fed on no neighboring herbage, but, giving 
	evidence of the rich pastures of Clitumnus, the high-bred should go, 
	with a neck that would have to be struck by a burly sacrilicer, 
15	on account of the return of my friend still trembling, and who has just 
	endured horrors, and who wonders at finding himself alive. 
	For besides the dangers of the sea, he escaped even the stroke 
	of lightning. Thick darkness concealed the heavens in 
	one cloud, and the sudden fire fell upon the yards; 
20	when every one thought himself struck by it, and 
	thereupon, in a panic, deemed that no shipwreck could be 
	comparable to burning sails. Everything takes place 
	in the same way, and just as disagreeably, whenever a storm 
	arises in poetry. Behold another kind of danger; listen 
25	and pity him again, though what follows belongs to the same 
	ill luck  a portion dreadful indeed, but known to many, and which 
	a multitude of temples bear witness to with, their votive tablets. 
	Who does not know that there are painters who gain their living 
	by Isis? And a similar fortune befell our Catullus. 
30	When the hold was full of water up to the middle, and, now 
	that the waves were heaving up each side alternately of the stern 
	of the crazy log, the skill of the hoary helmsman could render no 
	aid; he began to compound with the winds by throwing overboard 
	the cargo in imitation of the beaver, who, by his own act, makes 
35	himself a eunuch, hoping to escape by the sacrifice of his testicles, 
	so well does he understand the medicinal properties of his parts. 
	“Throw out everything that belongs to me," Catullus kept saying, 
	wishing to hurl overboard the very choicest objects, 
	a purple robe fitted even for effeminate Maecenases, 
40	and others whose wool the nature of the generous 
	pasture has tinged, but also the exquisite springs by their 
	hidden properties and the air of Baetica contribute. 
	He did not hesitate to throw overboard even his plate — platters 
	made by Parthenius, a bowl holding three gallons, 
45	and worthy of Pholus when athirst, or even the wife of Fuscus; 
	add bascaudae into the bargain, and a thousand meat-dishes, a quantity 
	of chased cups, out of which the cunning purchaser of Olynthus had 
	drunk. But who else nowadays, in any part of the world, who ventures 
	to prefer his life to his plate, and his safety to his property ? 
50	[Some men do not make fortunes for the sake of living, but, 
	blinded by a vice of nature, live for the sake of making fortunes.] 
	The greatest part of his necessaries is thrown overboard, but not even 
	do these sacrifices lighten the ship. Then, under the pressure of danger, 
	it came to this, that ho submitted his mast to the axe, and he extricates 
55	himself, though crippled. It must be the extremity of danger 
	when we apply remedies which will take away part of the ship! 
	Go now and commit your life to the winds, trusting to 
	a hewn plank, removed four inches from death, 
	or seven if the deal be of the thickest; 
60	and then, together with your wallets and bread and bulging 
	flagon, see to providing hatchets to be used in case of a storm. 
	But after the sea fell into a calm, after a lucky time 
	had come for the passengers, and Fate was mightier than Eurus 
	and the deep, after the Parcae were spinning kindlier piecework 
65	with benign hand, blithe, and working their wool with white 
	threads, and the wind presented itself not much stronger than 
	a moderate breeze, the prow drifted on pitiably with powerless 
	shifts, with clothes outspread and its foresail, which alone 
	remained. And now that the south wind was subsiding, 
70	hope of life returns with the sunshine; then the lofty peak 
	is caught sight of, beloved of lulus, and preferred by him as a home 
	to his stepmother's Lavinium; the peak to which the white sow 
	gave its name, an udder that excited the wonder of the rejoicing Phrygians, 
	remarkable for what had never been seen before, thirty nipples. 
75	At length he reaches the moles built through the waters enclosed between 
	them and the Tuscan Pharos, and the arms stretching back again, 
	which run into the midst of the sea and leave Italy far behind;— 
	you would not, in fine, admire so much ports 
	of Nature's making;—but with his disabled ship the skipper 
80	makes for the inner still water of the safe basin, which a skiff 
	from Baiae could cross, where, with shaven crowns, the sailors, 
	freed from anxiety, delight in garrulous recitals of their perils. 
	
	Go then, lads, keeping watch over your tongues and thoughts, 
	and place garlands on the shrines and meal on the knives, 
85	and adorn the soft hearths and the green turf altar. 
	I will follow anon, and the sacrifice, which has the precedence, having been 
	duly performed, will thence return home where the little images 
	glistening with fragile wax receive their slender chaplets. 
	Here I will propitiate my own Jove, and will offer frankincense 
90	to my paternal Lares, and will strew all the colors of the violet. 
	Everything is bright; my festive door has put forth long boughs, 
	and is performing its part in the rite with early morning lamps. 
	Nor let these things seem suspicious to you, Corvinus. 
	Catullus, for whose return I erect so many altars, 
95	has three little heirs. I should like to see who would 
	lay out a sick hen, just closing her eyes, on so unprofitable 
	a friend. But of a truth this would be too great an outlay; not even a quail 
	will ever be sacrificed for one who is a father. If rich Gallita has begun 
	to be sensible of fever, or Paccius—people who have no children—
100	the whole portico is clothed with votive tablets affixed in the 
	acknowledged way. There are people who start up and promise a 
	hetacomb of oxen, since here there are no elephants even for sale, 
	nor indeed is such a huge beast generated in Latium or anywhere 
	under our sky; but procured from a swarthy nation, 
105	it grazes in the Rutulian forests and the pastures of Turnus, 
	the herd of Caesar, prepared to serve no private individual, 
	seeing that their ancestors were wont to obey Tyrian 
	Hannibal and our generals and the Molossian king, 
	and to bear on their backs cohorts,—no trifling 
110	part of the fight,—and a tower that went into battles. 
	It is no fault of Novius, then, no fault of Hister 
	Pacuvius, that that ivory is not led to the altars to fall 
	a victim before the Lares of Gallita, the only one worthy 
	of such great gods and those that court their favors. 
115	Another of these fellows, indeed, if you will consent to his making the 
	sacrifice, will devote the tallest and handsomest persons out of the flock 
	of his slaves, and will place sacrificial fillets on his slave-boys and the 
	brows of his maid-servants; and if by chance he has a marriageable 
	Iphigenia at home, he will give her to the altars, although he does not 
120	expect the furtive substitution of the hind of the tragedians. 
	I praise my fellow-citizen, nor do I compare a thousand ships 
	to a will; for if the sick man escapes from Libitina, 
	he will cancel his will, caught in the grasp of the snare, 
	after a service so truly wonderful, and will perhaps summarily bestow 
125	his all on Pacuvius as sole heir. The latter will strut proudly 
	over his defeated rivals. You see, then, what a great return for 
	his trouble the slaughter of the Mycenian maid may bring him. 
	May Pacuvius live, I pray, even to the full age of a Nestor; 
	may he possess as much as Nero plundered; may he pile his gold 
130	to the height of mountains—and love no one, and be loved by none!