Poesis Latina A Marco Moskowitz scripta
Latin Poetry by Marc Moskowitz

Poemata omnia ab hoc poeta / All poems by this poet

Hebe et Ganymedes
Hebe and Ganymede

Hebe Ganymedi

Quid, Ganymedi, times? Nunc es, quod scis, adulescens;
dedecet iste viro, puero ludus tibi gratus.
Qui cum patre manet, quo tempore eum renovabit
hic jucundus amor? Didicit qui gaudia adulta,
cur cum patre manet? Te clausit Iuppiter ipse.
Ille pater divus genuit divos hominesque.
Nec mortalis sum, quæ claustra volo reserare;
recta pocillatrix, fudi nectar superorum.
"Hebe, quam sitio!" sic me properare jubebant,
10  nimirum cecidi, nimirum nectare lavi
divorum regem. Poculum te sumere iussit.
Sunt aquilæ regi, cum rege est mutua forma.
Numinis aligeri tu dulcis præda fuisti.
Annos hos multos parebas, serve, tonanti.
15  Ventus apricus adest; tibi sim, liberte, Juventas.

Hebe to Ganymede

What do you fear, Ganymede? You are now, as you know, a young man;
the play so pleasing to you as a boy ill-befits you as a man.
Whoever stays with his father, at what time will he be renewed
by this pleasing love? Whoever learns adult joys,
why does he stay with his father? Jupiter himself has enclosed you.
That divine father has begotten gods and mortals.
Nor am I mortal, who wish to unbar your cages;
an upright cup-bearer, once I poured the nectar of the highest.
"Hebe, how I thirst!" thus would they order me to hasten,
10  No wonder I fell, no wonder I washed with nectar
the king of the gods. He ordered you to take up the cup.
There are eagles of the king, with the king their form was shared.
Of a winged power you were the sweet prey.
These many years you, slave, have served the thunderer.
15  A sunny wind is here; let me, freedman, be your Youth.

Ganymedes Hebei

Filia Junonis, superavit avunculus altus.
Non opus est viris affectu tam muliebri;
non opus est mihi te. Non blanditiæ meretricis
e Jovis amplexu Ganymedin ei bene gratum
allecturæ sunt. Quid habes? Præbes mihi quidnam?
Sublato poculo, quæ munera vestra supersunt?
Utibilis nihilo, nugis teris otia nostra.
Doni prodiga, nunc furari vin' alienum?
Cede Jovi, quæso, nec frustra pergere niti.
10  Prævalet as regis quo victa talenta puellæ.

Ganymede to Hebe

Daughter of Juno, your lofty uncle has surpassed you.
Men have no need of such feminine emotion;
I have no need of you. Nor will a whore's flatteries
from Jove's embrace entice the Ganymede so dear to him.
What do you have? What indeed do you offer me?
Your cup put aside, what function remains to you?
Useful for nothing, you take up our time with trifles.
Wasteful of your gifts, now do you wish to steal another's?
Cede to Jove, I pray, nor continue to struggle in vain.
10  The kings penny is worth more than what defeated a girl's riches.

Hebe iterum Ganymedi

Momenti quanti tibi sunt hæc aurea vincla?
Te credisne deum, qui captus carcere divo?
Num præesse putas quemquam natum morituri?
Cujusnam regnum dandumst tibi? Ludibriorum?
Certe ludibriis rex aptus es atque supremus,
tu qui ludibrio regis longe meruisti,
sed semel omnibus est aliquid dignum faciendum.
Nemo ludere vult semper lusus pueriles;
olim te blandi forsan tædebit amoris.
10  Tum, putridis gaudis, pathice me quærere noli.
Cum nova membra petes, cum præbita basia quæres,
hexametris lyricis a servo spreta puella
nupserit heroe. Qua re manicas tibi caras,
ob quas ora fugis, narrabo mi placuisse;
15  verus eo datus est, vanus quocumque negatus.

Hebe again to Ganymede

How much are these golden chains worth to you?
Do you believe yourself a god, because you are held in a divine jail?
Do you think anyone born of a mortal can reign above?
Of what thing would you be the lord? Of playthings?
Certainly you are a ready and supreme king to the toys,
You who so long have served as a toy to the king,
But everyone must at some time do something worthwile.
No one wishes always to play boy's games;
someday perhaps you will tire of your fawning love.
10  Then, when your joys have spoiled, do not lustfully search for me.
When you seek new limbs, when you search for the promised kisses,
the girl spurned by a slave in lyric hexameters
will have been wed in epic verse. Wherefore the manacles so dear to you,
for which you flee my mouth, I will say that they pleased me;
15  The true is given by means of whatever has denied the empty.

Scripsit M. Moskowitz (marc@suberic.net)
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