Silvae III.4 (Mozley): The Tresses of Flavius Earinus

Speed, ye tresses, and may ocean smile upon your passage! Speed, while ye softly rest upon the enwreathed gold! Speed onward, for gentle Venus will give you a fair voyage, and make the South winds tranquil, and perchance will take you from the dangerous bark and convey you over the sea in her own shell. Accept, O son of Phoebus, these much-praised locks that Caesar’s favourite presents to thee, accept them joyfully and show them to thy unshorn sire. Let him compare their beauteous sheen, and long deem them the tresses of his brother Lyaeus. Perchance too with his own hand he will shear a lock from his hair’s unfailing glory, and enclose it for thee in other gold.

Pergamus, more blest by far than pine-clad Ida, though she boast the cloud that veiled the heavenly rape! She verily gave to the gods him on whom Juno ever looks in wrath, and withdraws her hand and refuses the nectar; but thou, beloved of heaven and famed for thy fair foster-son, hast sent to Latium him whom Ausonian Jove and Roman Juno alike behold with favouring brow and both approve. Nor without the will of heaven was such pleasure vouchsafed to the lord of earth.

Golden Venus, it is said, while on her way from the height of Eryx to the Idalian groves, driving her gentle swans, entered the shrine at Pergamum, where the great helper of the sick is present to aid, and stays the hurrying fates and bends, a kindly deity, o’er his health-bringing snake. Here she espies a lad of wondrous, starlike beauty, playing before the very altars of the god. And at first deceived somewhat by the sudden sight of his fair form she deems him one of her own sons; but he had no bow nor shade of wings on his bright shoulders. She marvels at his boyish charm, and gazing at his features and his locks, “Shalt thou go,” she cries, “to the Ausonian city, neglected by Venus, and endure a mean dwelling and slavery’s base yoke? May that never be! I myself will find a master worthy of that beauty. Come, lad, come with me! I will convey thee in my winged chariot through the air, a wondrous present to a monarch. No common servitude awaits thee: to the Palace art thou destined, to be the minister of love. Never, I declare, never the whole world over have I beheld or given birth to aught so fair. Straightway will the Latmian yield to thee, and the Sangarian youth, and he whom the fruitless image in the fountain and barren love consumed. The Nymph of the dark-blue water would have preferred thee, and grasped thy urn and drawn thee down more boldly. Thou, boy, dost surpass them all; only he to whom I shall give thee is more beautiful.” So speaking she lifted him with her own hand through the light air, and bade him sit in the swan-drawn chariot. Straightway appeared the Latian hills and the home of ancient Evander, which Germanicus, renowned lord of the world, is adorning with new structures and making as glorious as the stars above. Then more anxious grew the goddess, what tiring of the hair best suited him, what raiment was fittest to light up his rosy countenance, what gold was worthiest of his neck or his finger. She knew the Emperor’s godlike glance: herself she had joined the torches of wedlock, and with lavish hand bestowed on him his bride. So decks she his hair, so drapes the Tyrian folds about him, and gives him her own radiant fire. The former favourites yield, and the crowds of slaves; ’tis he who bears the first goblet to our great Chief, and the crystal cups and heavy murrhine vessels in hands that are fairer than they; there is a sweeter savour in the wine.

O youth beloved of heaven, who hast been chosen to sip first the sacred nectar, and so oft to touch the mighty hand that the Getae seek to know, and the Persians and Armenians and Indians to kiss! O born under a favouring star, the gods have blest thee with much goodwill! Once, lest the first down should spoil thy radiant cheeks and the charm of thy comeliness be darkened, the god of thy land left his lofty Pergamum and crossed the sea. None else was trusted to unman the lad, but the son of Phoebus with quiet skill gently bids his body lose its sex, unmarred by any wound. But Cytherea is devoured by anxious care, and fears lest the boy suffer. Not yet had the noble clemency of our prince begun to keep our males untouched from birth; to-day it is forbidden to destroy sex and violate manhood, and nature rejoices to behold none but as she brought them forth, nor does a harsh law make slave-mothers afraid to bear the burden of sons.

Thou too, had thy birth been later, wert now a man, and with darkened cheeks and limbs full-grown and strong hadst gladly sent not one gift only to Phoebus’ fane; now let this single tress make voyage to thy country’s shores. This did the Paphian steep in much balm, this did the fresh Graces comb with threefold hand; to this will yield the ravished purple tress of Nisus, and that which wrathful Achilles kept for Spercheus. When first it was decreed to spoil that snow-white brow and by force to rob those gleaming shoulders, winged Cupids with their Paphian mother flew to thee, and prepared thy locks and put a silken robe about thee. Then with joined arrows they cut off the tress, and laid it on gold and jewels, and Venus their mother seized it as it fell, and anointed it once and twice with her mystic essences. Then one of the troop of boys, who by chance had brought in his upturned hands a mirror finely set in jewelled gold, cried: “This too let us give, no gift could be more pleasing to his country’s shrine, and more powerful even than gold. Do thou but gaze therein, and leave thy likeness here for ever.” He spoke, and shut the mirror, imprisoning the image.

But the peerless boy stretched forth his hands to heaven, and cried: “Most gentle guardian of men, vouchsafe in reward for my gift, if I so deserve, to keep our prince in the freshness of undying youth, and save him for the world. The sky, the sea, and the earth join with me in my prayer. May he live, I pray, through the years of a Priam and a Nestor both, and rejoicing see his own home and the Tarpeian shrine grow to old age with himself.” He spoke, and Pergamus marvelled that her fanes were shaken.