Classic Poem

Arriv'd from all the pomp and din
Of Rome, Aricia took me in,
A guest but sorrily bestow'd;
But my companion on the road
Was Heliodorus, that fam'd Greek,
Who teaches youth the art to speak.
To Appii-Forum thence we hied,
Where landlords sour and tars reside.
This journey which is but a day
For those that expedite their way,
Finding so many things to do
With idleness we split in two.
For them, that often choose to call,
The Appian way is best of all,
And here the water was so vile
I mortified my gut, the while
The company sat down to meat
And not without vexation eat.
Now night was bringing on the shade,
And all the signs of heav'n display'd;
Then with the tars our slaves begun,
A spice of their vociferous fun,
Which soon was answered by the crew—
‘Why here, you sorry knaves bring to—
You're cramming in the folks too fast,
Three hundred are enough—avast!’
Now while their money they demand,
And mule is fasten'd to a stand,
An hour elaps'd—the plaguy gnats,
And frogs, that crowd the fenny flats,
Drive off repose—the muleteer
And waterman combin'd to clear
Their pipes, and on the charms enlarg'd
Of their dear girls, with drink o'ercharg'd,
Till the tir'd muleteer began
To sleep—the lazy waterman
Tyed the mule's tackle to a stone,
And sent her out to graze alone!
Then snored upon his back—the day
Now sprung, and we had made no way.
Then one more hot-brain'd than the rest
Leapt out, and being first possest
From willows of a sturdy tool,
Bang'd head and back of man and mule;
Till the fourth hour was more than past,
When we were set ashore at last.
Feronia, in thy marble vase
Each of us wash'd his hands and face,
And having din'd, three miles we creep
Beneath white Anxur's rocky steep.
Here both Maecenas, and the great
Cocceius, were to come in state,
As they ambassadors were sent,
On an affair of high event,
Us'd separate friends to reunite.—
Here, I disorder'd in my sight,
With my black salve my eyes besmear'd—
Maecenas during this appear'd,
Cocceius too, and Capito,
The most accomplish'd man I know,
And Antony's especial friend—
From hence our course we trav'lers bend,
And Fundi pass with much good will,
Where Luscus was the Praetor still,
Not without laughing at the tribe
Attending on this crazy scribe,
His robe, and laticlave withal,
And pan of incense in his hall;
From thence to Formiae we roam,
Murena finding us an home,
And gen'rous Capito his cook;
Next day the brightest in the book
Arose, for Plotius, Varius came,
And Virgil of eternal name:
At Sinuessa these we met,
Of spirits so select a set,
Than which earth ne'er did bear or see,
More candid, or more dear to me.
Oh! what embraces all around,
What joy was at this meeting found;
There's nothing I wou'd recommend
In pref'rence to a pleasant friend.
With lodging next, the place that's nigh
Campania's bridge did us supply.
Purveyors brought us wood and salt,
For fear of suff'ring, on default:
From hence the mules their packs dispose
At Capua, ere the damps arose.
Maecenas goes to FIVES (as I
And Virgil on our couches lie)
For balls are bad things for the blind,
And those that are to coughs inclin'd.
Thence for Cocceius' seat we bear,
Where all good things abound, and where
The Caudian Inns are likewise built.—
Now, muse, deliver if thou wilt,
In a few words the war, enrag'd
Sarmentus and Cicerrus wag'd,
And from what ancestors in pride
These heroes with each other vied:
Cicerrus of grand Oscian race,
Sarmentus is not out of place,
On such illustrious pretence,
The gallant combat they commence:
Sarmentus first, ‘you seem disturb'd,
Like a mad horse, that should be curb'd.’
We laugh'd, and Messius, ‘'Tis well said,’
Replied, and shook his furious head.
‘O (says Sarmentus) what, if now
Your horn was extant on your brow,
Wou'd you atchieve—since ev'n thus maim'd
You have at such distortions aim'd?’
Now a most lamentable scar
Did Messius' grisled forehead mar;
Then pelting him with jests apace,
Upon his rubicund grimace,
Where many a carbuncle and wart
Grew of the right Campanian sort;
‘Pray for a dance, Sir, let me ask,
The Cyclops jig—you need no mask,
Nor can for buskins be concern'd.’
To this Cicerrus much return'd.
Ask'd if his household Gods had got
The chain he vow'd shou'd be their lot,
That, tho' by trade a scribbling knave,
He was not less his lady's slave;
He kindly beg'd to know for why
He took it in his head to fly,
Since that for one so lank and spare,
A pound of bread was plenteous fare.
In short this humorous event,
Prolong'd our meal in merriment.
To Beneventum thence next day,
Straight as a line, we made our way,
Where, while the meagre thrushes roast,
The flames nigh burnt our bustling host,
For thro' th'old kitchen widely spread,
Th'ascending flakes were making head:
Then trembling slaves you might have view'd,
Eager to have the fire subdued,
And guests, each greedy of his claim,
Snatching their supper from the flame.
From hence Apulia 'gan to show
The mountains I was born to know,
Which by Atabulus are swept,
And whence we never shou'd have crept,
Unless Trivicum's little sheds
Had found us where to lay our heads,
But not without such clouds of smoke,
As did the very tears provoke,
The hearth within a certain house,
Burning both leaves and wet green boughs.
Miles twenty-four from hence we ran
Bowl'd in post-chariots, for our plan
Was at a place to make our stay,
Whose name in verse we cannot say;
But 'tis describable when told,
By signs, for here the water's sold,
Water the cheapest thing elsewhere,
And here the worst—their bread is fair,
And good, so that upon the road
The trav'lers choose to take a load,
For full of grit Canusium sells
Her loaves, nor has she better wells:
Tho' Diomede of brave renown,
Chose this same place to build a town.
Here pensive Varius takes his leave
Of friends, that likewise weep and grieve.
To Rubi next we were convey'd,
All tir'd to death, as we had made
A longer journey thro' bad ways,
More tedious for the rainy days.
The morning was a little fair,
But then the ways more dirty were,
As far as Barium's fishy coast—
To Gnatia from this place we post,
Which is a city that arose
With all the water-nymphs its foes:
But here they much diversion made,
When us they wanted to persuade,
That incense in their sacred shrine
Melts without heating—I decline
All credit to the tale, the Jews
May think it genuine, if they choose.
For I then learnt the pow'rs above
Dwell in security and love;
Nor if a miracle be told
Of Nature, will it therefore hold
The Gods have sent it from the sky
By their profound anxiety—
Brundusium, which at length we gain,
Ends the long journey, and the strain.